


You Were a Dragon (And You Saved My Life)

by TheBritishGovernment



Category: James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Bond has a hero complex the size of Texas, Canon Compliant, Complete, F/M, I Apologize For the Lack of Dragons, M/M, Memory Loss, Multi, No Actual Dragons, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Drug Addiction, Pre/During/Post Skyfall, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:52:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 30,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBritishGovernment/pseuds/TheBritishGovernment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barely a day after Venice, Bond meets a drug addict who happens to look a lot like Vesper. He tries not to think about what motivates him to put the boy up in a hotel with MI6 money, but all in all, it doesn't matter. He'll never see the boy again.</p><p>Later, sitting in front of <em>The Fighting Temeraire</em>, he realizes that he was wrong.</p><p>Alternately: Imagine Bond's surprise when the drug addict Bond helped on the street becomes his new Quartermaster.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Now complete</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The London lights began to blur around Bond's sixth hour of driving. That in and of itself was not a problem, but the fact that he'd just seen Vesper sitting by the side of the road was, and he pulled the car over sharply to the shoulder, only just barely resisting the urge to scream into the confined space of the interior. He wasn't at all used to the emotions roiling inside him, and he needed a way to let them escape. His solution ended up being to grip the steering wheel until his knuckles turning white and slamming his head back against the seat. Of course, it didn't work, and the agent had to take a moment to breathe and steady himself before he got out of the car, deciding that the bitterly cold air would help distract him.

He pulled his jacket that much tighter around himself, turning his collar up against the wind. Before he knew it, he was halfway down the block, stopped in front of an alley. The alley, actually, where he thought he'd seen Vesper for the tenth or eleventh time. She had been curled up in a ball, sitting on the ground against the brick wall, and she'd been so vivid, even though Bond knew perfectly well that she had drowned in Venice not 24 hours previous. He screwed his eyes shut, and then slowly turned, opening his eyes to look down the length of the alley. He half-expected there to be nothing there when he looked, but apparently his sanity wasn't completely shot, because there was.

It definitely wasn't Vesper (Bond wasn't very sure how he felt about that, so he ignored the additional emotional turmoil it added), however, he did bear an uncanny resemblance to her. The boy, for that was what he was, was on the ground. He had wavy black hair and gray eyes, with pupils that were completely blown as they looked up in Bond's direction. He said something, and Bond broke out of his trance-like state. 

“What?” he asked, his voice gruff even to his own ears.

When the man repeated himself, his voice was posh. “I said, do you have any change to spare?”

For some inexplicable reason, Bond felt guilt surge through him as he stared blankly at the boy. “Get up,” he said after a moment.

He got a vacant stare and a defiant lack of movement in return.

Bond sighed, extending his hand to the boy. “I'm going to take you somewhere safe,” he said gently. “Warm. Clean. Come on. Up you get.”

Slowly, the boy nodded and put a shaking hand into Bond's, letting the agent help him to his feet. Bond slipped his jacket off, then, and wrapped it around the shoulders of the fragile-looking boy.

“Do you have a name?” he asked as he led the still trembling boy to his car.

The boy didn't look at him. Shrugged. “Not really.” 

Bond watched him for a moment out of the corner of his eye, but the boy seemed oblivious, completely lost to the world. When they got back to his car, and the boy was seated silently in the passenger seat, he watched the lights fly by with wide eyes and the sort of unwavering interest that Bond had only ever seen in children and addicts. It occurred to him a moment later that the boy was probably high, and letting him into his new car had been a particularly horrible idea. 

A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of a nice hotel and led the boy inside. “Stay behind me,” he said under his breath. “And don't say anything.”

The boy nodded and followed Bond in, staying close behind him. Bond went to the front desk and reserved a room for a week, along with a week's worth of room service, and charged it all to his MI6 account. While he conducted the transaction, the boy stayed close, looking around at the elegant chandeliers and the people milling about the lobby, all making wide arches around him.

Bond led the boy up to the room, sat him down and explained the situation, but from the glazed look in his eyes, he guessed that the boy wasn't going to remember a word he said. He wrote it down instead, for when the boy came down from his high.

He knew that M would scold him for misuse of government funds, and accuse him of going soft because the boy looked like Vesper, but it didn't matter to him.

He would never have to see this particular mistake again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen)


	2. Brave New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fighting Temeraire + Q's not high + Bond is confused = Chapter 1

Years passed, and Quantum fell, and Bond moved on. At least, he told himself as much. He was stull a broken old man to the sets of eyes that watched him whenever he bothered to walk into MI6, and perhaps, even a little to himself.

The he died. He wished that the fall would have been the end of his story. He made wish upon wish that he never would have resurfaced when the silly little field agent shot him off that train. He wished that he would have died when he hit the water, after finding out exactly what he was worth to the only people he cared about. But wishes were useless, and the universe didn't have mercy.

So, now, very much alive, he sat in front of an oil painting that he was trying to find the joke in. Tanner had set up the meeting with his new Quartermaster, and to Bond, it was an odd choice. _The Fighting Temeraire._

“Always makes me feel a little bit melancholy. Grand old warship being ignominiously haunted away for scrap.” 

The voice that spoke was posh, familiar, and close to his ear. Bond turned to look at the owner of the deep tones, and very nearly swore out loud. It was the boy from the night after Venice, the one who looked like Vesper and who had been high as a bloody kite. He was obviously doing better now – he appeared to be clean, and his clothing was of high quality, even if the trousers were green plaid. Fuck. He had never meant to see the kid again, and now he was most likely going to get thanked.

“The inevitability of time, don’t you think? What do you see?” The man turned to Bond, and he felt an overwhelming urge to run away.

“A bloody big ship,” he grumbled. “Excuse me.” He tried to get up, but was stopped when the voice mumbled again.

“007.”

A select few curses sprang to mind as Bond winced and sat back down.

“I’m your new Quartermaster,” the boy said. 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Bond said before he could stop himself. The child that he had saved on the street all those years ago was now not just working for MI6, but _outranked_ Bond.

“Why, because I’m not wearing a lab coat?”

_And, obviously, you're going to ignore the past._ “Because you still have spots,” Bond responded. 

“My complexion is hardly relevant,” the man retorted. 

_No, but your selective memory is!_ “Your competence is,” Bond said, keeping his voice completely even although his mind was an absolute mess.

“Age is not guarantee of efficiency.”

“And youth is no guarantee of innovation,” Bond huffed. For some reason, the fact that this... child was ignoring whatever had transpired those years ago offended him. For all he knew, he possibly could have saved his life.

“I’ll hazard that I can do more damage on my laptop, sitting on my pajamas, before my first cup of Earl Grey than you can do in a year in the field.” The man's tone was matter-of-fact, smooth and educated.

Bond laughed slightly at the man next to him. “Oh, so why do you need me?” he asked in an amused voice.

The man sighed. “Every now and then a trigger has to be pulled.”

“Or not pulled. Hard to tell which from your pajamas,” Bond countered as he turned to look at the man again with his hand extended. “Q.”

This caused the man to pause for a moment and then smirk. “007.” They shook hands and when Q looked away to get something out of his jacket Bond looked at the ground and smiled the most sincere smile since Vesper. 

Q pulled a white envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Bond. “Ticket to Shanghai,” he said in a crisp, professional voice. “Documentation and passport.”

“Thank you.” Part of Bond's mind was still trying to figure out Q. He couldn’t decide if Q didn’t remember, was ignoring it, or if Bond was misremembering. 

“And this,” Q said. There was a black case in his hand. Bond took it and opened revealing a gun as Q narrated. “Walther PPK/S 9 millimeter short. There’s a micro dermal sensor in the grip. It’s been coded to your palm print so only you can fire it. Less of a random killing machine, more of a personal statement.”

“And this?” Bond asked, pointing to an empty spot in the foam. Q handed Bond a small rectangular metal box and continued explaining.

“Standard issue radio transmitter. Activate it and it broadcasts your location…distress signal,” Q finished explaining. Bond continued to ask himself where Q had learned all of this and if it was before or after he had pulled him off the streets for a week.

“Gun and a radio. Not exactly Christmas is it?”

“Were you expecting an exploding pen? We don’t really go in for that anymore,” Q said while cocking his head to the side smugly. He stood up and moved to leave, then turned around to look at Bond. Bond had a sudden flare of hope that Q would remember him and say something now that professional matters were out of the way. But Q just cocked his head to the side again and said, “Good luck out there in the field.”

Bond considered that maybe it wasn’t the boy he had saved, but looking up in Q’s eyes he knew that it was, even if they were no longer blown wide from the drugs.

“And please return the equipment in one piece,” Q added like he was speaking to a ill-mannered child. He just turned and left without another word and Bond felt the urge to roll his eyes.

“Brave new world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/works)
> 
> Have another chapter my darlings! I hope you like it.


	3. I Invented Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond gets back from Macau + Q is a genius + Bond is still confused = Chapter 2

The moment Bond got off the plane from the Chinese Isle, he was quickly ushered into a car that took him directly to MI6. As soon as he arrived there, he was brought into M's office and debriefed. When he finished talking, she shooed him away before sitting down at her desk with a look that made Bond think that she had some sort of scheme going to end the world around them.

He left with a nod and made his way down to Q branch, because if there was anywhere to be when the world was going end, that was it.

Q-Branch had procured an entire floor with a glass room as their apparent base of operations. Q was standing at the front of the room typing intently on his computer, and Bond stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out how Q had gone from being a druggie and living on the streets to being an executive at MI6.

Q must have felt Bond watching him, because he looked up from the computer and looked right in the agent's direction before arching an eyebrow at him. Bond fought off a smile and walked into the glass-encased room, placing Silva's laptop on the metal desk in front of Q.

The Quartermaster looked up at Bond, and then glanced at a man who was sitting at a nearby desk. “Geoffrey, take this to R. It might be rigged, so do be careful,” he instructed, sliding the laptop closer to the man as he approached.

“Yes, sir,” the man said, nodding sharply. He picked the laptop up and turned, disappearing down a tunnel to the side of the room.

“They're fairly well behaved minions for their new overlord,” Bond commented approvingly.

“That's likely because I don't consider them my minions or myself an overlord,” Q said as he looked back down at his computer, typing for a moment before looking back up at Bond. “Did you happen to bring back any of your equipment?”

Bond pulled the radio out of his pocket and placed it on the table with a small smile, purposefully not saying anything else.

“And where is the gun?” Q asked as he picked up the radio. He inspected it for a moment, and then placed it off to the side.

“A dragon ate it,” Bond replied. He thought he would, at the very least, get a laugh out of the man who was so intent on making him go insane. _Did he remember? Is he simply an arse? Does he think I don't remember? Is he just an arse?_

A small smile tugged at the corner of Q's mouth, and he looked down at the table. “I met a dragon once,” Q said, as if he was recalling a particularly fond memory.

“You met a giant lizard?” Bond deadpanned, his arched eyebrow the only sign that he might be surprised by the news.

“No, I…never mind.” Q looked at Bond and gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thank you for returning what was left of your equipment.”

Bond almost turned around and left at the dismissal, but decided to linger for a moment. “Your little trick with the grip did save my life, by the way,” he said with a carefully reassuring smile.

A smile spread quickly across Q’s face, and this one did reach his eyes. It made a genuine smile fight for a place on Bond’s face and they grinned like fools for just a moment. “Well, Quartermaster, I have an evil genius with fashion sense almost as bad as yours to taunt.” 

With that, Bond winked and then turned on his heel, leaving Q-Branch.

* * *

“Back so soon?” Q asked when Bond returned not an hour later.

“For some reason they didn’t want me around him anymore.”

Q rolled his eyes at the agent. “I can’t imagine why.”

Bond smiled and set to a round of wondering how Q could have been the boy on the street. “M wants to know what’s on the laptop,” Bond said before his staring at Q got awkward. 

“Well aren’t you lucky?” a woman asked as she walked up holding the laptop in question.

“To see you? Yes,” Bond said smoothly, turning to look at the woman.

“I’m both married and out of your league, Mr. Bond,” she said as she placed the computer on the desk in front of Q. “I deactivated the explosives and other assorted weapons that were rigged in it. There were quite a few, bit paranoid.”

“You’re not paranoid if people are actually out to kill you,” Q commented as he opened the computer. “Thank you, R.” 

She nodded and left back down the tunnels. Bond watched her leave for a moment. She was a bit older than Q, but then again Q’s physical age and mental age didn’t really match up.

“To answer your question, 007, R and I are not married. She’s more like my sister than anything else. And to answer your new question: it’s Tanner,” Q said as he focused on the computer. “Now, you can wait in the corner for your answers if you would like,” he said motioning behind him and next to the screens. 

Bond moved to the spot and put his hands in his pockets, content to watch Q work.

“Now, looking at Silva’s computer, it seems to me that he’s done a number of slightly unusual things,” Q said as he turned around to look at the main screens. “He’s established fail-safe protocols to wipe the memory if there’s any attempt to access certain files. Only about six people in the world could program safeguards like that.”

Bond wanted to sigh in frustration. “Of course there are. Can you get past them?” 

“I invented them,” Q said as he turned back to Silva’s computer. Bond grinned at Q’s back and for the hundredth time wondered how the kid on the streets became the Quartermaster of MI6, and apparently a computer genius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/works)
> 
> Comments & Kudos=Love


	4. Breakfast and Mediocre Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond gets back after Skyfall and Q's still at the office.

Bond walked into a dark Q-Branch and followed the light that was coming from an office that had its door open. He had gone back to MI6 after Skyfall to have his wounds checked and had just been let out of Medical. Going to Q-Branch was a kneejerk reaction to coming back from a mission. M, Medical, then Q-Branch to return equipment. He hadn’t realized until he got there that the only piece of equipment was still in his car when it was shot to pieces and then blew up. Now he was just intrigued by the lone soul that was still around.

He stopped short when he saw that Q was the one sitting behind the desk. Apparently it was his office, which made sense considering the fact that he was the head of Q-Branch. 

“007?” Q asked like he wasn’t sure if Bond was really there.

“Q,” Bond said tiredly as he moved inside the room and sat in the armchair in front of the desk. “What are you still doing here?” 

“I was waiting to hear about how the mission went,” Q said. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut before blinking a few times to clear his vision. “You?” he asked when he decided that Bond was sitting in front of him.

“Just released by Medical,” Bond said offhandedly. “You must have heard by now.” Even to Bond he sounded detached and emotionless, which for an unknown reason he didn’t want Q to think he was.

Q sighed and removed his glasses to dig the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Yeah, I just can’t quite find the motivation to leave. I’ll have to be back here in a few hours anyway.” Q put his glasses back on and shrugged.

“I’m sure they would give you the day off,” Bond said. He wasn’t sure who _they_ were, but he didn’t save the kid on the streets to watch him working himself to death. He didn’t save the kid for any purpose, but that was beside the point.

Q scoffed at the idea of getting a day off. “The minions, as you called them, will need me.” Q smiled at Bond tiredly.

“True, but you’ll be useless to them like this,” Bond said as he stood up and stretched his shoulders. “Come on, I’ll take you to breakfast.”

Q looked up at Bond suspiciously, which only remedied Bond of the night that he had found Q.

Bond sighed, though it came out more as a laugh. “It’s just breakfast. I’ll drive you back to your flat and you can change into another awful cardigan.”

“It’s not awful,” Q said indignantly as he stood up and grabbed his coat off the back of his office chair. 

“Absolutely hideous,” Bond grumbled. He led Q out of the office and to the parking garage to check out a car to use until they decided if they could save his car. He took him to a diner down the street from the MI6 building and Bond made sure Q ate. 

Bond told stories of particularly ridiculous things that happened to him on missions. He told him about the one-liners and the women and men he had met and seduced with said one-liners. Q would laugh and roll his eyes at the stories and mumble something about low standards.

Q told stories of strange missions that he had helped other agents through. Halfway through breakfast Q got a text from Tanner with a picture of Bond’s car and a question mark. He told both Tanner and Bond that the car would be fixed, if only because modifying it was the first project he was given when he started working in Q-Branch.

Bond made a small note of the information about the time line in the back of his mind as Q talked about which of the ideas were his and which were from his predecessor or other Q-Branch employees.

When they finished their food Bond insisted upon paying the bill despite Q’s insistence that he could pay for himself.

“Why are you doing this?” Q asked after they left the restaurant. 

“An agent can’t take care of his Quartermaster?” Bond asked sarcastically. 

“Not when that agent is James Bond,” Q countered. He held out his hand for the keys, which Bond placed in his hand before getting into the passenger seat.

Bond didn’t respond since he didn’t have an answer that wasn’t along the lines of “I met you once when you were high and paid for you to stay in a hotel, and I think I might have saved your life so now I feel responsible for you.” 

“You won’t seduce me with breakfast and mediocre coffee,” Q said matter-of-factly after a long moment of silence.

“What about dinner and okay coffee in my flat?” Bond asked before he could stop himself.

Q parked in front of his building and considered Bond for a moment. “If you really are trying to seduce me, 007, you will have to put in a bit more effort,” Q said in a dead-serious voice only betrayed when one corner of his mouth curled into a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter this time. Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen)


	5. Somewhere Between “What Did You Do?” and “Was It Fun?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q and Bond get a mission + Mallory is a strategic little shit + Bond is less than pleased

In the weeks following Skyfall, which the Silva incident had been dubbed by Mallory against Tanner’s advice, every section of MI6 went under inquiry, especially Q-Branch and the Double-O programme. Q became a frequent visitor to Mallory’s office and would stand outside mumbling sarcastically to himself as he waited to be allowed in. 

Bond came into the atrium to await his own inquiry from Mallory on a day that Q was running through a particularly long list of complaints. Moneypenny was ignoring him as par usual, but Bond raised and eyebrow and approached the man. 

“Q,” he said in greeting.

Q looked up from his tablet and at Bond curiously for a moment. “007,” he said with a nod. “It seems that we have been brought in to be scolded at the same time. How efficient, he’s getting better at this.” Q's voice was quiet, bitter. 

Bond glanced at Moneypenny who just shrugged and went back to her computer. 

Q took a deep breath and sighed. “I apologize for my outburst,” Q said with a tad more professionalize and a bit less irritation as he pushed his glasses back into place. “That was hardly appropriate.”

“You’re not going to offend me,” Bond said offhandedly.

“Maybe not, but it was hardly proper.” Q closed the case on his tablet as the door to Mallory’s office opened and Tanner slipped out with a smirking 006.

Bond gave Alec a look that was somewhere between “What did you do?” and “Was it fun?” In response Alec smiled and winked, telling Bond that there would definitely tell him later. 

“Q, 007,” Tanner nodded to them as he passed. “He’ll see you now.”

“Thank you, Tanner,” Bond said with a nod. He followed Q into the room and stood next to him behind the chairs in front of Mallory’s desk. 

Mallory looked up from a file in front of him and tossed it on the desk. “You two are technically still under investigation, but we need you in Paraguay. It seems that Silva’s influence is also there and an end to everything Silva would be nice,” Mallory explained. He motioned for Bond to pick up the file. At the same time Q’s tablet dinged with a notification. 

Q opened the tablet and the file that had just been sent to him. He tapped on the screen and opened the file. They read through their respective files as Mallory continued.

“007 will infiltrate the facility, eliminate the target, a Mr. Santiago Vera who was, supposedly, Silva’s right hand. We will also need you to gather all the information that you can from the computer systems that are set up there, I leave that part to Q,” Mallory explained as they looked through their files.

Q and Bond looked up at Mallory expectantly. There had to be something else if Mallory had called them both in.

“Is there something else?” Q asked after a moment of silence. 

“I think it would be wise for you to go and assist 007 on his mission,” Mallory said carefully.

_Q’s afraid of flying_ immediately played in Bond’s mind and he almost answered for Q.

“Is there a particular reason, sir?” Q asked carefully. Bond almost scoffed. If he had been the one asking he would have demanded why Q had to go. But Bond figured that he was still trying to figure out his new boss as compared to Bond who knew Mallory’s type well enough to know Mallory would take it because he needed them both.

“The PM discovered your little trail and is currently investigating the situation,” Mallory explained. “Mr. Tanner and I think that it would be prudent to have you out of the county on official business whilst it is under investigation.”

“And you want this mission to go off without a hitch,” Bond commented.

Mallory looked at Bond as blankly as he could. Bond still saw the annoyance at him, though. “As much as it can with you,” Mallory replied sharply. The tension in the air was palatable as Bond and Mallory stared at each other. 

“To leave tomorrow?” Q asked. Bond wondered if he knew he had just defused the situation or if he just heard a pause in the conversation while he was half focused on his tablet.

Mallory looked at Q with an approving eye before answering. “Yes, I assume R can take care of Q-Branch while you are away?”

“Of course.” Q’s focus completely shifted to his tablet where Bond noticed he was typing an email, occasionally switching apps to type out code.

“Is that all?” Bond asked, adjusting his suit jacket.

“Yes,” Mallory said, turning back to his computer. 

Bond tucked the mission file under his arm and walked out of the room with Q trailing behind him.

When the door shut behind them Q spoke. “I’ll call you with the details of the flight later tonight.”

Bond watched Q as they stood in the middle of Moneypenny’s office. He was just typing away, seemingly unaware of the world around him even if Bond knew better than assume that. They had become friends of sorts while everyone was being investigated. Bond would retreat into Q-Branch and stand, watching Q work. He rationalized that he wasn’t watching over Q, even if Moneypenny and Tanner had started mocking him, calling him Q-Branch’s own personal attack dog, there were just only so many things that Bond could do while he was being forced to stay in MI6 during office hours. 

Moneypenny and Tanner had been discussing something, but paused when they noticed Bond’s gaze on Q. “James, it’s rude to stare,” Moneypenny said with a laugh.

“I wasn’t staring,” Bond said indignantly.

“Yes, you were,” all three of them answered together.

Bond huffed and left the room to go find Alec.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/works)


	6. It Doesn't Matter if You Hate Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec and Bond have a chat about the Quartermaster

The credits on Alec’s TV started to roll and Bond and Alec both sat, completely stunned, for a moment. “What the fuck?” Alec asked slowly, quietly, and in a sort of daze.

“You don’t propose because you have an affair!” Bond shouted at the telly.

“There is so something wrong with that kid,” Alec commented like he was still in a trance.

“Even _I_ know that!” Bond yelled, pointing at the television. 

“There’s something wrong with that kid. He’s going to be her son, or her lover, or a mass murderer or some shit.” Alec was mumbling as he got off of the couch. He walked into his kitchen and grabbed the vodka from the counter and started pouring himself another drink.

“I‘ve broken up marriages and even I know that was a shitty thing to do,” Bond said as he got up from the couch and followed Alec into the kitchen, bringing his glass with him.

“He’s going to cause some monumental shit,” Alec commented as he refilled Bond’s glass. Neither of them seemed to realize that they were holding two completely different one-sided conversations. They both sipped their drinks and Alec opened one of the drawers and pulled out a stack of take-out menus. “You decide.”

“I can’t. This show has killed me and I have yet to be resurrected.” Bond's voice was even, completely serious. He downed the last of his drink before going to the fridge and grabbing a beer. He slammed the edge of the cap against the counter, leaving an imprint of the cap on the counter. “You choose.” 

“I can’t see straight with all the ideas of what that kid is going to do running though my head,” Alec countered. 

Bond gave an overdramatic, longsuffering sigh. “Fine,” he said grabbing a random colored pamphlet and tossing it at Alec.

“Usual?” Alec asked, grabbing his phone and hitting speed dial 4. 

Bond nodded and took a drink of his beer. As soon as the person on the other end of the line answered Alec started talking in swift Mandarin. Bond leaned against the counter as he listened to Alec order the food and flirt with whoever was on the other end of the line. His own phone went off and he picked it up a little faster than he would like to admit. Alec gave him a significant look that Bond brushed off with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

There was a text from a blocked number that just read, _Heathrow, 6am, security check 3._ It’s all it said, but it made Bond smile just a little bit. 

“That your Quartermaster?” Alec asked as he put the phone down on the counter and sipping at his drink.

“He’s your Quartermaster, too,” Bond countered with a half-hearted glare.

“Hardly.” Alec grinned at his best friend knowingly. “I don’t stare at him all day.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Bond protested.

“Not according to the only other three people there,” Alec countered as he moved back to the couch. “And honestly, I believe Moneypenny and Tanner on this one.”

“Some friend you are,” Bond grumbled as he went back to the couch and kicked Alec’s shins as he passes.

Alec just laughed at him, though it sounded a bit like a bark. “I’m just trying to get you to be honest with yourself, James.”

“About what, exactly?” Bond asked suspiciously.

“That you have claimed the Quartermaster as your own,” Alec said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“He can’t just be claimed,” Bond countered with annoyance and maybe just a bit of anger.

“Oh, come on, you want to fuck him.” 

Bond leveled a glare at his friend. “I do not.”

“You can’t honestly expect me to buy that,” Alec said with a disbelieving look.

“No, I don’t. You wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you,” Bond grumbled. He took a long drink of his beer and glared at the open space in front of him.

“Half of MI6 wants to sleep with the Quartermaster, but _you_ want…” Alec cut himself off short when he saw Bond’s jaw clench at what he had said. “Holy fuck,” he said in a stunned voice. “You’re right, you’re right. You don’t want to fuck him,” Alec allowed seriously before a wicked grin spread across his face. “You want to make love to him.”

“Oh, shove off,” Bond said exasperatedly. 

“You want to be with him and love him and wake up on lazy days next to him.” Alec continued smiling like a cat at Bond. “You don’t want to _fuck_ him… you want to _marry_ him,” Alec said, deliberately forming every word. He disintegrated pretty quickly into a fit of giggles as he laughed at his best friend.

“Have I ever told you how much I hate you?” Bond asked with a heavy glare.

“It doesn’t matter if you hate me, because you _love_ the Quartermaster,” Alec teased.

“Remember this when I kill you later.”

“Oh, James. You won’t kill me,” Alec said sweetly. “You still need a wingman.” Alec fell into another fit of laughter.

After a while of listening to his friend laugh and shaking his head Bond spoke, “Start the bloody episode.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen).
> 
> Comments & Kudos= Love


	7. K-I-S-S-I-N-G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond and Q set off for Paraguay

The night before his trip with Q, Bond didn’t sleep at all. He spent the whole night thinking about Q’s fear of flying and forcefully ignoring what Alec had said. Around 4am he got up and started searching through his extensive collection of prescriptions until he found a bottle of Ativan that Medical had given him after a particularly tasking mission that he didn’t recall. He stuffed the drugs into the small suitcase that he was taking with him. In the back of his mind he could almost hear Alec laughing at him and singing “James and Q, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

Before he left that morning, Bond took the bottle out and put it back in four times. He took a cab and stopped at the coffee shop at the airport and got Q tea and himself a large cup of coffee to help with his overwhelming exhaustion. 

Q was already standing in front of the security check when Bond got there. He was so used to seeing the Quartermaster in ill-fitting cardigans that he almost stopped in his tracks when he saw Q waiting for him in a black suit that had been tailored perfectly to fit the angles of his body. The sight may have made Bond’s throat close up just a little, not that he would even admit it under torture. 

“Brought you tea,” Bond said as he extended the cup to him.

Q smiled and took the paper cup and handed Bond an envelope. Bond opened it and read over the sheet of paper inside. There was also a boarding pass and passport inside that he slid into his pocket.

“You’re my assistant?” Bond asked in amusement. He folded up the paper and tucked it away in the inside pocket of his jacket.

“It was either that or you being my body guard, and that was just a little too close to the truth,” Q quipped. 

“A lowly bodyguard?” Bond asked in mock offense. “I would have thought you thought more of me than that.”

“Be honored that I think that highly of you,” Q said with a small smile.

“You are the worst assistant ever,” Bond scolded. They got in line for the security check and stood silently. 

They didn’t speak again until they were sitting side by side in front of their gate. “Moneypenny told me that you don’t fly,” Bond commented lightly.

“I try and avoid it whenever possible,” Q replied with a shrug. 

Bond pulled the bottle out of the front pocket of his suitcase and held it out to Q.

Q’s eyes went wide and his hand twitched for the bottle. “I-I shouldn’t. Thank you, though.” Q swallowed and looked away from the pills. 

Bond arched an eyebrow, but didn’t ask. He put the pills back in his bag and grabbed his phone.

“I designed headphones that completely cancel out noise. Based on noise I won’t be able to tell if I’m on a plane or at the office,” Q explained as he pulled out a pair of black headphones from his laptop case.

“What about the actual sensation of flying?” Bond asked curiously.

“I just have to get through take off and landing. In the air I can probably distract myself enough with work and the like,” Q said as he pulled out a tablet.

Bond just hummed in response.

Q looked at Bond seriously. “Whatever I do on that plane, please, do not judge me too harshly,” Q pleaded quietly.

Bond starred at Q thunderstruck. He took notice of the important things like the fact that Q was shaking, all of his movements were stiff compared to the smooth way that he usually moved, and that he had his hands wrapped so tightly around his tablet that his knuckles were turning white.

It was obvious that Q was terrified of flying, but was forcing himself calm for the sake of his pride. 

Q stared back at Bond and hoped against all odds that the man wasn’t plotting his demise. His resolve would crumble the moment he was on the plane and he would be on display for Bond to laugh at. He wasn’t allowed to have weaknesses, not if he wanted to stay the unquestioned MI6 Quartermaster, and yet he was being forced to show his fear to Bond. It would be easy for Bond to laugh at him, to tell every one of the agents, or the executives and Q would lose everything because who wants to listen to someone who’s young and weak. That was all that they were going to see him as; he knew that. He would be a child in their eyes if they knew that it was anything more than just a slight aversion to flying. Q knew all of that. He knew it and he was asking Bond not to tell people and make it all happen.

Bond wanted to reassure Q that he could never judge Q for being afraid. He wanted to tell Q that no matter what happened on that plane he would not tell a soul, if that was what Q wanted. But all the agent could only manage was a nod. 

Q gave him a hesitant, thankful smile and turned back to his tablet.

They sat in silence, Q tapping away on his tablet and Bond playing the game on his phone, until they were called to board the plane. Q had arranged for them to bypass the long line and go in first class before everyone else. 

Q settled into his seat next to Bond, his muscles still ridged. Bond heard him start breathing deeply and may have felt to compulsion to grab Q’s hand reassuringly or just carry him off the bloody plane and tell Mallory to shove it up his arse, not that he would admit to wanting to do either of these things. 

Through the entirety of the safety explanation, that Bond had heard so many times that he could recite it backwards, Bond checked on Q from the corner of his eye so much that it boarded on obsessive. 

Q had been right though, of course. Takeoff was the part that made him clench his hands so tightly into fists that Bond wanted to make sure that his nails weren’t cutting into his hand and making him bleed. Bond watched as Q screwed his eyes shut and started breathing in almost gasps. The sight brought out a protective side out in Bond that he really didn’t like.

Once the plane leveled off Q put his headphones on and just like he said, he was fine. He started typing out code and about half an hour later he turned to Bond and told him that he could stop staring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen)
> 
> Kudos & Comments = Love


	8. Bastard. Insufferable Bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond's off to party while Q monitors from the room.

Once they finally landed in Paraguay, Bond and Q took a cab to the hotel that Q had reserved rooms for them in. Bond swept his room for bugs before he collapsed on the bed. He pulled his gun from his shoulder holster, where he had put it after getting off the flight, and placed it under the pillow. Halfway through his flight across the Atlantic it occurred to Bond that he was the biggest moron on the planet and he was still stuck wanting to suffocate himself in the pillows on his bed. Q was an addict and he offered him pills. Bond wanted to groan at his own stupidity, but he had more pride than that. Distantly, he hoped for a few hours before he had to wake up and be 007 again. He slipped into unconsciousness with a final thought of his stupidity and a telepathic apology to Q. 

He woke up with a start when someone knocked on his door. He grabbed his gun and headed to the door. He looked out of the peephole and saw Q standing impatiently with his tablet under one arm. 

Bond stuffed the gun into his waistband and opened the door. 

“I assume you already swept the room,” Q said as he sat down on the edge of Bond’s bed.

“Yes, why?” Bond asked. He sat on the edge of the counter across from Q and watched the man with a small smirk. He must have slept at some point because his hair was a complete mess.

“I do hope you brought nice suit, and by nice suit I mean a nice suit for a normal person,” Q said with a small smirk of his own. Bond realized that his hair was probably also standing in quite a few different directions since he had just rolled out of bed.

“Why?”

“Because if you showed up at the party you’re going to tonight in a tux you would look like an absolute buffoon,” Q said as he tried to get his grin under control.

“Laughing at your own joke?” Bond asked smoothly.

“I can’t very well expect you to know good humor when I use it,” Q countered. “Anyway, you will be attending a gala tonight. Your target should be attending, he’s hosting. You are to make contact, and convince him to have you go to the facility where the computers are stored. We have no idea which building it is so this is pinnacle if I am to do my job,” Q explained calmly and in an almost bored tone. 

“Go. Find the man. Meet the man. Make the man like me and set up a meeting for tomorrow,” Bond summarized. 

“Exactly,” Q said as he stood up. “Try not to screw it up too much.”  


* * *

Bond milled around with the rest of the party guests while he looked for Mr. Vera. “I don’t see him, Q,” he mumbled. Q had set himself up in his room with a secure line to an earpiece he gave to Bond. He was also looking for the target using the security cameras he hacked into.

“Neither do I,” Q muttered. 

“Fantastic,” Bond grumbled. He made his way to the bar and motioned for the bartender. “Vodka martini, shaken, not stirred.”

Q snorted a laugh at him. “I’m glad you cleared that up for them, 007. Who knows what would have happened if you had just said shaken,” Q said sarcastically. 

“No reason to be mean,” Bond commented under his breath as he caught the eye of a woman in a backless green dress with her black hair pinned up. He gave her a charming smile, which she returned in kind.

“That was hardly mean. Trust me, when I’m mean, you’ll know it,” Q said and Bond could practically see him roll his eyes. 

“I’m sure,” Bond mumbled. He moved across the bar to lean next to the woman. “Hello,” he said smoothly.

“Hello,” she answered just as smoothly. She gave Bond an appraising look before smiling. “And you are?”

“Bond. James Bond,” he said with a seductive smirk to her. “And you are?”

“Bastard. Insufferable Bastard,” Q mumbled over the comms. “And don’t bother telling me your name because I will forget it within the hour.”

“Tina Agrevoas,” she said in a seductive tone like silk. “How are you finding the party?”

“I can’t say much for the art, but I am enjoying the view,” Bond almost purred at the woman.

Q gave a bark of a laugh in Bond’s ear. “Does that actually work?” Q laughed again. “I thought you were supposed to be smooth. I thought you were kidding when you told me those awful one-liners you use! This is absolutely absurd!”

The woman continued talking before she turned to the bartender and Bond turned to look at the crowd again.

“Goodnight, Q,” Bond mumbled as he dug the earpiece out.

“No, no, stop,” Q said, but Bond just repeated himself and turned back to the woman as he stuffed the comm in his pocket. 

“Did you say something?” she asked as she handed him a fresh martini.

“Not a word,” he said with a small smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen)
> 
> Kudos & Comments = Love


	9. You Would Make A Nice Rug

Bond had woken up in a lot of unfamiliar places. Some of them were the good kind of unfamiliar, like a hotel room or his own flat, and some were not so good, like a dark, sweaty basement. He didn't like waking up in those sorts of places, especially when he woke up tied to a chair. That morning, though, ranged in the middle of the scale. A holding cell wasn’t so bad, especially since he still seemed to be mostly untouched. 

Someone was speaking to him and he blinked to focus on where the voice was coming from. As it turned out he didn’t really want to find out. Said voice was speaking ridiculously fast Spanish and it was coming from an imposing police officer.

“Levántate,” the voice said again.

He stood up and the man let him out of the cell to lead him out of the building. Bond wanted to know why he was in a holding cell in the first place, as well as who was arranging for him to be let out. He got one of the answers when he saw Q standing in the lobby of the police station with his arms crossed and a heavy glare.

“Gracias Andrés, te debo una,” Q said to the guard who had let Bond out.

“Ahora estamos en paz,” the man responded with a nod at Q. 

Q smiled and shook the man’s hand before grabbing Bond by the arm and pulling him out of the building.

“I like it when you take charge like this,” Bond grumbled under his breath.

When Q spoke, his voice was matter-of-fact. “I’m going to kill you,” he said, as he got into a waiting black car.

“I never pegged you as the jealous type.”

“Oh, yes. I’m completely jealous of you getting drugged and almost killed if it weren’t for me,” Q snapped at him.

“What?” Bond asked calmly. 

“Tell me what happened after you finished your drink with Tina,” Q said almost growled. He pulled sharply into the street and started down the street.

Bond opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn’t actually remember the night before. He could only vaguely remember who Tina was in the first place.

“Exactly. I am your Quartermaster, when I say stop it’s usually for your own good.” Q was still yelling and Bond knew he had fucked up. Q was gripping the steering wheel and driving significantly faster than necessary or probably healthy. 

“She knew who you were and why you were there and decided that you would make a nice rug,” Q growled. “I had to call in my favor with Andrës in order to save your sorry arse.”

“And what exactly was your favor to Andrës?” Bond asked with an eyebrow arched. 

“I gave him a blow job in uni,” Q snapped. Bond blinked at Q a few times before he realized that Q was being sarcastic. “It’s really none of your business what I did. All you need to know it that saving you last night cost me.”

Bond was silent as he waited for Q to calm down and fully explain what was going on. 

“Tina Agrevoas is an anagram for Santiago Vera,” Q explained after two minutes of silence. He sounded significantly calmer and Bond was able to breath easy knowing that Q wasn’t likely to crash the car to try and kill Bond. “She uses the name to gain respect from people since she doesn’t meet them and a man’s name demands more respect than a woman’s, especially in her business. Last night she knew who you were and attempted to kill you. I had figured it out, at least a bit, when you decided that I was useless to you.” Q paused and waited for Bond to say something, but he held his tongue. “I had Andrës intercept in a few slightly illegal ways.”

A tense silence settled in the car and pressed against Bond’s chest. He wasn’t sure what Q wanted from him. Maybe he wanted an apology, but maybe he wanted Bond to stay silent so that he could think. Bond ran with the silence since he wasn’t really one to apologize anyway.

“We’re heading to another location so that I can set up. I was able to track their car back to her house and need to set up tracking on the rest of the cars in her garage via satellite,” Q explained. Not long after, he stopped in front of an apartment building next to the beach. 

Bond let himself be led up the stairs to a large apartment that overlooked the bay. “And what am I going to do?” Bond asked as Q sat down in front of the laptops he was setting up in one of the bedrooms.

“I’ll explain later,” Q said without looking at Bond who was standing in the doorway to the room. Bond took the sign to leave Q alone and went to the kitchen. He found a pot and filled it with a bit of water and put it on the stove before going back in to look in on Q who ignored him completely and was typing furiously on his computer. 

Bond found a box of tea in a bag on the counter, apparently when Q had moved he stopped at the store before getting Bond out of jail. When the tea was finished he put it in a mug that he found in one of the cupboards. 

Q mumbled his thanks, but still ignored him. Bond waited patiently and took a nap on the bed behind Q. Eventually the constant tapping of keys stopped and Bond woke up from his nap. He looked up at Q who was leaning back in the chair and glaring at the empty mug like it had just committed murder. 

“It’s later,” Bond said in a groggy voice. 

Q gave a small start and turned around to look at Bond as if he had forgotten that Bond existed. “You won’t like the plan,” Q said bluntly.

“That doesn’t stop me from needing to know it,” Bond countered.

Q sighed and nodded. “You will kill Tina on one side of the facility, where her office most likely is. While you do that I will break into the server room on the other side of the building and take what I need and give them a nice virus.”

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Levantarse=Get up
> 
> Gracias, Andrës, lo debo a ustedes=Thank you, Andrës, I owe you
> 
> Estamos en paz, ahora=We're even now
> 
> Any and all translation errors are the fault of google translate.
> 
>  
> 
> **Comments & Kudos=Love**


	10. I’m a Genius, Not a Psychic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bond and Q argue

“No?” Q asked in a bored voice. He obviously wasn’t surprised by his reaction, even if Bond was.

“You’re a kid, a computer geek, you’re not made for the field,” Bond rationalized.

Q huffed and rolled his eyes at the agent. “No one is _made_ for the field,” Q countered exasperatedly.

“I was,” Bond insisted as he pointed to himself.

Q shook his head and placed the mug on the desk calmly. “No, you were _shaped_ for the field, but your entire existence doesn’t revolve around shooting people and not feeling bad,” Q argued in an even voice. 

“Do you not know what I do?” Bond asked harshly. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up in one swift movement. He didn’t know why he was making it into an argument, but he did know that he didn’t want Q in the field under any circumstances. 

“I know what you do and I know what you’ve done in the past,” Q said as he also stood up. He was only a bit shorter than Bond, but he was definitely smaller than the agent. He didn’t seem bothered by this, though; he just stood up at his full height and met Bond’s angry eyes. “You, however, have no idea what I have done,” Q argued, a bit of anger slipping into his voice.

“I know that you sit at a computer all day!” Bond yelled. He took a step closer to Q that Q matched without hesitation.

“I know my limits, Bond,” Q countered in a low voice. “Unlike someone else in this room.”

“I know my limits and I know my job,” Bond snarled at Q. “It’s my job to protect you and I’m going to do it if it kills me!” 

Q instantly calmed down from his anger. “Is that what you hope to get out of this?” Q asked curiously. He seemed to think that that was what Bond legitimately wanted. “Would it make you feel better to know that you’re the bait?”

“Bait?”

“You kill her, they’re distracted chasing you all over the building while I take care of business,” Q explained. “That makes you the bait. I assumed you understood that when I explained to you the plan.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but things rarely go according to plan in our line of work,” Bond almost yelled at Q. “You will get caught and you won’t have anyone to protect you,” Bond argued. “It’s my job to protect and make sure that you actually get back to London. They won’t hesitate to kill you, Q, you dying is not really…”

“This isn’t a discussion. I am your superior and you will do as you are ordered!” Q yelled over Bond’s rambling.

“If you want to get yourself killed be my guest, but don’t expect me to mourn for you,” Bond grumbled.

“Why would I expect you to mourn for me? You don’t mourn for anyone, no matter how many people you get killed,” Q said quietly.

Bond stared at Q blankly for a tense moment. He felt like he had just been sucker punched. He just wanted Q to be safe. Going in there could be a huge mistake and had the potential to get him killed, and really, if Bond cared about someone then death was a guarantee. But Q put an end to the conversation with what was really a cheap shot. Q held his ground, though, and looked at Bond as he stretched to his full height and tried to look as authoritative as possible in front of a licensed killer.

Bond nodded sharply and left the room. This was the point in time that he would leave and go do the entire mission on his own, but he had no idea where the facility was and he had no way to find out. Q didn’t even know, and when he found out he probably wouldn’t tell Bond until they pulled up a block before and the mission started. 

He went into one of the bedrooms and started dismantling and cleaning his gun. After he cleaned it and put it back together he took it apart again just to see how quickly he could actually get the act done. 

After an hour of repeating the act over and over again, timing himself on his phone, he beat Alec’s record. He smirked to himself as put the gun back in its holster and went to stand up from the floor where he had deposited himself. He looked up and saw Q leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and a smirk on his lips.

“Something I can help you with Quartermaster?” Bond asked smoothly.

“I was going to call in lunch while we waited for the program to work,” Q said with a small smile.

“I’m not stopping you,” Bond quipped as he pushed past Q into the living room. He was not pouting, but he wasn’t really against giving Q the cold shoulder for a while.

Q rolled his eyes at Bond and turned around to continue talking to him. “No, but not knowing what you want is,” Q countered. “I’m a genius, not a psychic.”

Bond’s lips curled into a smirk against his will as he looked at the younger man. “I’m disappointed.”

“No, you’re really not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos & Comments = Love


	11. What a Bitch

Q checked in on the computer program he had written after lunch and again a few hours later when he got tired of waiting. Bond followed him into the room when he heard the chair squeak as Q sat down. He sat down at the desk and Bond watched from the edge of the bed Q track the car to a warehouse. Within ten minutes Q had found floor plans and had three exit strategies planned out. 

Bond still wasn’t exactly happy with the plan, civilians in the line of fire was an aspect of his job that he never liked, but with another reminder from Q that he wasn’t a civilian Bond sighed and went along with it. They left soon after getting the location and going over the plan again, Bond and Q both armed with custom guns from Q-Branch encoded to their palm prints and earpieces on their secure line. 

“Cause as much trouble as possible on your way there. Shouldn’t be hard for you,” Q said with a smirk before Bond got out of the car. Bond just shook his head at the man. 

“Can you hear me?” Bond asked as he walked towards the building in question.

“Of course,” Q’s voice came into his ear. Bond walked into the building and scanned an ID card that Q had copied. He walked purposefully past the security guard like he belonged there. 

“How long before Agrevoas is back in her office?” Bond asked Q. 

“Her meeting should be over at 5:30,” Q said. Bond heard a car door shut in the background as Q got out of the car. 

He heard something move and Q grunt quietly. A few more seconds passed and Q whispered, “I’m in.”

Bond continued down the hallway and winked at every person he passed, including four security guards. He gave a charming smile to the secretary in front of Agrevoas’s office before he went inside without saying a word. It was only a mater of minutes before Agrevoas walked into the room. She stopped for a moment inside the door before smiling at him and moving towards her desk where she pressed a panic button on the underside. 

“Hello, Mr. Bond,” she said in the seductively smooth voice she had used the night before.

“Hello, Tina,” he responded just as smoothly. He pulled his gun out from under his jacket and pointed it at her casually.

Agrevoas didn’t even bat an eyelash at the weapon, but settled further into her chair comfortably. “This office will be surrounded in less than two minutes, you know that, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Bond said casually. “Lucky for me it doesn’t take two minutes to shoot you, so we have time to chat.”

“What would you like to talk about? How I knew who you were?” she asked in a condescending voice.

“It would have been very stupid for you to not know who I was,” Bond said offhandedly. “I did kill your boss, after all.”

Agrevoas gave a short, harsh laugh. “Silva was hardly my boss,” she said with just a twinge of annoyance in her voice.

Bond gave her a disbelieving look that she rolled her eyes at. 

“Your Quartermaster isn’t nearly as clever as he thinks he is,” she said with a knowing smirk.

Bond went stiff for a second, but Q let out a laugh. “Tell her that I am definitely as clever as I think I am,” Q said. Bond could practically see the grin on his face.

“If anything, he’s more clever,” Bond countered stoically.

She gave an amused laugh and arched an eyebrow at him. “His little plan to find me backfired, if I remember correctly.”

Bond stared at the woman blankly for a minute. 

“Seems like that’s a pretty common theme among MI6,” she said smoothly.

“You’re really stuck on that, aren’t you?” Bond asked with a huff of amusement. “You do know that you lost that fight, right?”

“You didn’t exactly win that fight, either,” she said with a sly smile.

“Silva’s dead, that was the goal of it all,” Bond countered.

It was her turn to hive him a disbelieving look. “And the collateral damage?”

Bond stared at her without emotion.

“What a bitch,” Q commented from his end of the line. The corners of Bond’s mouth twitched up.

“Something funny?”

“Very,” Bond said simply.

“I’m almost ready, just by the way,” Q said behind the typing.

“Well, it’s been a nice chat,” Bond said conversationally, before shooting her forehead and chest and then the window a few times. He kicked at the window and it shattered outwards. With a quick look at the men charging into the room, he jumped out the window. He took off running down the street towards where Q had parked the car.

Bond heard Q curse under his breath before some scrapping. Q ran up beside Bond with a smile. “Everything taken care of?” Q asked as they ran.

“Everything but our friends,” Bond said without looking back at the men chasing them.

Q handed Bond the keys to the car and they got in, slamming the car doors. Bond started the car and slammed on the gas. Q sent a look backwards at the men who were chasing them and ducked behind the seat again when they started firing shots. 

Q let out a loud laugh. “Always fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen)


	12. Broken By You

It took them two hours of driving to lose their tail, and another hour for them to feel safe enough to go back to the flat. When they finally got inside, Q said something about going to get dinner and thrust a tablet at Bond, telling him to go write up his report.

Bond grumbled, but did as he was told. He went into the bedroom that he had been in earlier and sat down on the bed with his back leaning against the headboard. He started typing up his report for M, leaving out the small detail of being drugged and Q having to call in a favor to save him. 

Almost an hour later Bond heard the front door open and Q call out that it was just him. Bond almost got up to see what food Q had gotten, but thought better of it when Q didn’t tell him what he got or yelled for him to come get the food. Somewhere in Bond’s mind he thought that maybe the Quartermaster was going to cook for him. Instead Q pushed Bond’s door open wider with his foot and held up a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

“Drink?” Q asked simply. He already knew the answer, but let Bond move to one side of the bed and place the tablet on the bedside table before entering the room.

“Be my guest,” Bond said, and his voice was practically a purr. Moneypenny called it his “Bond, James Bond” voice, and while the agent didn't think he needed any assistance in seducing his Quartermaster, he figured it couldn't hurt, either.

The sincerity of Q's smile surprised him as the man moved to the bed and sat down next to Bond, close enough that the older man could feel the heat radiating off the hacker, even if they weren't touching. It made him hyper-aware of Q's body, as if he hadn't been already.

Q poured them each a glass of the scotch, and his fingers brushed the agent's when he handed the glass over. Bond almost forewent the drink entirely, but experience told him the chase made the ultimate catch all the sweeter. “You haven't touched your drink,” he murmured after a long moment, looking at Q's still-full glass.

The smile returned to Q's face, and this time, Bond _knew_ he wasn't misinterpreting the look. There was want written all over the boffin's expression, and his voice was just that much rougher when he spoke again. “I don't drink.”

Flicking his wrist, Bond drained the rest of his glass, and he didn't miss the way Q's eyes zeroed in on his throat when he smile. “Thank God,” he said, and then turned to capture Q's mouth with his own. He swallowed the little gasp of surprise the other man gave and tore a few more from him when his tongue slid into the hacker's mouth.

Bond hoped that it wasn't just a dream, that he wouldn't wake up hard in his trousers and by himself in the flat while Q was out buying dinner. It wouldn't have been the first time he dreamed about touching Q, about the slick warmth of his mouth and the pressure of his fingertips and the noise that would spill from in between those plush, red-kissed lips.

Bond trailed his lips down over Q's jaw, and then let his mouth slide open as he sucked a bright red mark onto the pale skin of his neck. The mark screamed 'mine' even if Bond couldn't, and it drew a whine out of the hacker that Bond desperately tried to commit to memory. He wanted to memorize everything. The way Q's chest arched up when Bond pushed his shirt off, the way his pupils encompassed his eyes when Bond applied his mouth to the planes and angles of his stomach. 

When they were both finally naked, and Bond was kneeling in between Q's legs, Q ran his hands all over Bond's skin, touching his chest and arms before curving him around to trace the curve of his arse. Q had the same look on his face that he did when working on a new project – calculating and concentrated. It made Bond feel... exposed. And then Q started kissing him again, and whatever self-consciousness he had begun to feel fled under Q's exploratory mouth and fingers. 

Q mapped his mouth with his tongue, and then left his own mark on the juncture of Bond's neck and shoulder, a bite-mark that left imprints of Q's teeth. It burned wonderfully, and made Bond buck his hips up unconsciously.

The agent had to get up to get the lube, and Q slapped his arse lightly when he got up and laughed, saying something about preferring a prepared man. When he returned, Bond kissed him roughly, possessively, and tried not to think about how he wanted to erase every memory of anyone other than him.

Some time later, when Bond finally slid into Q, they moaned in unison as Q shuddered, and Bond decided that it was the most beautiful thing that he had ever heard. The hacker's fingers slid and scratched over his skin every time Bond grazed _that_ spot, and Bond wished desperately that the thin red marks would never go away. He wanted to wear Q's marks, wanted something to show that this gorgeous man had been his.

He kissed Q's neck as he settled into a steady rhythm that had Q gasping and writhing underneath him, and when Q finally came with a cry and a shudder, Bond followed him with a cut-off moaned that sounded far too much like Q's name. He braced his elbows on either side of Q's head, and then rolled off him, peeling off the condom and tying it off before tossing it aside. He drew Q into his arms and kissed him wetly, unable to resist smiling when the man made a noise of protest.

They laid there for a few minutes, catching their breaths, and then Q worked his way out of Bond's arms, swinging his legs off the side of the bed before reaching for his clothes. With a sudden shot of shame, Bond rolled onto his side and watched Q dress. He'd slept with the man without a second though. For all he knew, Q, just like Bond, needed to fuck the adrenaline out of his system and Bond had been convenient. Someone would probably tell him that it was a good thing for him to get a taste of his own medicine, but he had to disagree. For the first time in a long time, Bond was regretting his choice to fuck now and think later. He wanted to ask why Q was leaving, but he couldn't decide what to say without sounding... clingy. He finally settled on a pathetic, “You don't have to leave,” as Q was buttoning his trousers.

The hacker turned around to look at Bond, his expression hard to read. “Yes, I do,” he said, and his voice was firm, decided. 

“Why?”

This time, Q's smile wasn't seductive or sexy. It was understanding, even pitying if Bond was going to be honest with himself. “Because, James,” he began, and Bond's stomach shrunk. “I may be young, but I am far from naïve. You're James Bond. Agent 007. You leave broken hearts mingled right in with the broken bodies, and I have no intention on being broken by you.” He nodded, slightly stiffly, and then turned and walked out of the room.

Bond all but collapsed back into the bed, his breath leaving him in a huff. “Well done, James.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abnormally large thanks to my beta reader who fixed my horrendous smut. [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen)


	13. Try Again

Q and Bond went back to London the next morning. They didn’t speak of the night before; they barely talked at all. It wasn’t a particularly awkward silence that constantly rested between them; it was just the silence of two people who knew there was nothing to be said. 

It was the afternoon when they landed in London and were chauffeured to MI6 and Mallory’s office. The debriefing with the new M took longer than Bond had hoped it would, he didn’t want to spend too much time with Q, if he could help it. At the end of the meeting Mallory told them that both of their investigations had been closed upon the completion of the mission and the reports they received from Q. He dismissed them and Q thanked him before leaving to go back to Q-Branch. Bond started flirting with Moneypenny on his way out, but didn’t put any effort into it. She noticed immediately and sent him home with a shooing motion of her hand.

It was still only late afternoon and Alec was out of the country. Moneypenny said he was in Africa shutting down an arms dealer, so Bond was bored. He went to walk home and stopped by a bar on the way since he really didn’t want to go home yet. It didn’t take long for him to get bored with the small crowd of people in a pub during the middle of the workday. He wondered aimlessly around London for a while, recommitting it to memory before he went home and attempted to sleep off his jetlag. 

Over the next week he still wasn’t assigned to a new mission and was desperately bored with London. He had taken women and men to bed every night that week but still couldn’t stop thinking about Q’s body under his. The weekend came and went with more people in Bond’s bed and he was still bored out of his mind.

On Monday he went into MI6 and asked Tanner for a mission to help him refocus, but he told him that there wasn’t anything he could do since Psych and Medical were still throwing fits about letting Bond back into the field so soon after M’s death. “Mallory doesn’t want to start off on anyone’s bad side, and he still has enough Double-Os to cover it,” Tanner explained with a sympathetic shrug.

Bond nodded and found himself wandering into Q-Branch. There were people milling around and no one noticed the Double-O as he walked into Q’s office. The young Quartermaster sat at his desk, reading something on the screen with his brows furrowed. He sat down in front of Q’s desk and waited for the younger man to look up at him.

“Hello, Bond,” Q said in a carefully controlled voice.

“Hello, Q.”

“Is there something I can help you with?” Q asked in a cool, professional voice.

“How about dinner tonight?” Bond asked with a charming smile.

Q paused in his typing before he looked away from his computer and sighed. “Listen, James, if this is about Paraguay…”

Bond cut him off before he could finish. “It is about Paraguay.”

A look that crossed disgust and offense crossed Q’s face and Bond had a moment of panic that he had just made a very bad decision. “I will not become your fuck toy,” Q said in a voice that was defiantly offended.

“No, nothing…” Bond started, but Q cut him off.

“I also don’t need your pity, 007,” Q snapped at him with a glare. “I slept with you out of choice, not you because you’re irresistible.” Q practically spat the last word at him as he continued to glare.

Bond tried not to let out a sound of irritation as he looked at the Quartermaster glowering at him. “It’s not just about that part of Paraguay. It’s about everything of Paraguay,” Bond explained calmly. 

Q stared at Bond and knit his brows together slightly. “Bond, you were drugged,” Q said flatly.

“Well, I could definitely go without the drugging, but everything else…” Bond tried, but Q cut him off.

“You were captured by the enemy,” Q said just as flatly as the first time.

“…Okay, without the…” Bond tired again, but Q cut him off again.

“And woke up in prison,” Q added in a bored, unamused voice.

“I was on the mission, Q,” Bond said in a tight voice.

“You don’t seem to remember the mission,” Q countered.

Bond sighed and rolled his eyes as he settled further into the chair. “Q,” Bond started calmly. “I remember sitting next to you for eighteen hours and talking to you while we waited for your computer to do it’s job. I remember you saving my life and laughing while we ran for our lives. I think that’s enough for a date.” Bond let a small smile cross his face as he watched carefully for Q’s reaction.

Q watched Bond blankly for a minute before turning back to his computer and starting to type without answering Bond. “How long did you work on that little speech?” Q asked in a bored voice.

Bond smirked and shook his head at the man before he stood up. “Was that a no?” Bond asked with just a hint of amusement to hide his disappointment.

“That was try again,” Q said slyly. He smirked at his computer and only looked at Bond from the corner of his eye as the agent left with his own grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen)


	14. Very Open Minded

Alec’s flat was a sort of home base for both agents. If Bond was honest he spent more time at Alec’s than he did his own flat. And if they were both honest they both liked it that way. That’s why when Alec walked into his flat he only sighed when he saw his best friend with a bottle of scotch, sitting on his couch, staring at the blank TV screen he just shrugged and closed the door.

Alec dropped his bags next to the door and took of his jacket. “What’s wrong with you?” Alec asked as he sat down next to his friend. “Your lady-killer charms not work on the Quartermaster?”

Bond didn’t look at the other agent, but handed him the bottle. “I didn’t use my ‘lady killer charms,’” Bond said blankly. His mind was obviously somewhere else.

Alec laughed. “I didn’t think you were capable of speaking without trying to seduce someone.” Alec stood up and crossed the room for a glass.

“I don’t try to seduce you,” Bond countered. He seemed to come out of his trance to join Alec in the kitchen.

Alec paused long enough to give Bond a disbelieving look. “It just doesn’t work on me.”

Bond laughed and threw his head back. “The Quartermaster is the one who seduced me.”

Alec laughed loudly. “James Bond had to be seduced. What has the world come to?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Bond grumbled. He grabbed the bottle from Alec and poured himself a drink.

“What’s with you? You slept with him.” Alec drained his glass and placed it back on the counter and started going through the take out menus. “Everything should be fine.”

“He won’t go to dinner with me,” Bond said quietly. He watched Alec fan out the menus like a magician doing a card trick. 

“Now I really don’t see the problem,” Alec said as he held the menus out to Bond. Bond grabbed a menu at random and threw it at Alec.

“I repeat: fuck off.”

Alec laughed. “Only if you admit I was right. You actually care about him.”

“Fuck. Off.”

Alec smirked at him as he dialed the pizza place.

After he got off of the phone with the owner (apparently his daughter wasn’t allowed to answer Alec’s calls anymore) James asked him about the mission he had bnen given while Q and Bond were in Paraguay. 

“You know how clean up missions are,” Alec grumbled. 

Bond nodded thoughtfully. He did know what they were like. Boring and covered in blood. Alec had been sent to take out one of the terrorist groups that had killed one of the agents during Skyfall. Some people from Six would mourn for them, but none of them were stupid enough to demand blood for it, not like the public was. The public was outraged at both MI6 and the terrorists, which only left MI6 to end the group.

The problem with redemption missions was that there wasn’t any game; it was just pure killing. 

“Anyway, I’ve got a date with Miss Moneypenny Friday, “ Alec said brightly.

“The boss' girlfriend? Really, Alec?” Bond asked in an almost disappointed voice. 

Moneypenny and Mallory had a bit of a _thing_ since Skyfall. According to Moneypenny, they had gotten together while Bond was fighting Silva in Scotland. She had tried to distract him with the information when she accompanied him on his drinking binge after M died.

“Apparently they’re very open minded,” Alec commented.

Bond crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. “Tell me, Alec, do you have a date with Miss Moneypenny, or Miss Moneypenny _and_ Mallory.”

“Both of them,” Alec conceded.

Bond sighed something that might have meant to be exasperated, but came out as almost a laugh. “You’re going to fuck our boss.”

“Positions have yet to be discussed.” The corner of Alec’s mouth pulled into a smirk.

Bond tried not to laugh. “I bet Mallory is into some kinky shit. But I guess you’re going to find out, aren’t you?”

“I am going to find out.” Alec moved back to the couch with Bond following close behind. “I’ll make sure to give you all the details.”

“Like Amsterdam?” 

Alec groaned at the memory. “That was an accident.”

“How did you _accidently_ fuck two men in Amsterdam?” Bond sat down next to Alec on the couch as the other man opened his Netflix. 

Alec smirked at him. “And since you brought up Amsterdam I am going back to Q.”

Bond all but groaned.

“I mean, he’s young, which means he has more options than you, but he needs someone reliable. Someone who get’s what it’s like in MI6 and won’t get mad at him for getting snippy when missions go tits up. You’re really a prime candidate.”

“I kill people for a living,” Bond countered.

“Alright, prime candidate with questionable career choices, but still,” Alec allowed.

“You’re insane,” Bond mumbled.

“What did he say exactly when he shot you down?” 

“Can we start the episode now?”

“You knew that Amsterdam was declaring war when you brought it up. Now answer my question.”

“He told me to try harder,” Bond finally conceded.

Alec smiled slightly and nodded. The room fell silent, but Alec still didn’t start the episode. When Bond looked sideways at him he said, “Do as he says.”

“Alec,” Bond said in a warning voice. 

“How did you make Double-O? You’re really quite stupid.”

“Alec,” Bond snapped.

“He doesn’t want to be another notch in your bedpost,” Alec continued with a dramatic sigh. “You’re not exactly known for your fidelity.”

Bond still didn’t say anything.

“It’s a wonder that you ever get laid. He wants you to work for it so that he knows that you care. If you don’t care about him you’ll lose interest, if not you’ll keep working at it.”

“Not that I asked for your help. But that’s not helpful in the slightest.”

“Woo him, for Christ’s sake! Buy him flowers, serenade him, do whatever lovesick teenagers do! God you’re thick!” Alec said exasperatedly. He started the episode and ended the conversation. Bond didn’t pay much attention, though. He was too busy thinking about how to win over his lovely quartermaster without letting Alec know that that was exactly what he was thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen).


	15. Try Again

Wooing the Quartermaster was not going to be an easy task. Bond was aware of this when he took on the challenge in the first place. He started with the basics. He went around to Q-Branch almost every day and just hung around.

He stole a chair from one of the minions and sit next to Q’s command center at the front of the room. He stayed mostly out of the way of everyone’s way, except for whichever poor soul’s chair he stole. 

The fourth day he went in there was a chair waiting for him with a paper tapped to the back with “007’s Time Out Chair,” written on it. It was written in Q’s slanted handwriting and when Bond asked about it Q just flashed him a grin and turned back to computer.

That afternoon Bond was put on a plane and was on his way to Pakistan. The mission was going to be short and was a bit like having training wheels put back on. He assumed that Q had reported his monumental blunder and they were trying to ease him back into fieldwork after M’s death.

He would be back in a few days, but he was glad to be away from Q and his game. That was how Bond had taken to thinking of his courtship of his quartermaster. He felt like he was playing a game that no one had bothered to teach him the rules. Q had him thinking and rethinking everything that he did, and then he would rethink it again. It was starting to drive him mad.

*

Bond walked down one of the streets around his hotel and mapped out the city in his brain. He looked down alleys, and backstreets looking for escape routes that wouldn’t be on a map. 

After an hour of looking like a tourist Bond went back to his hotel and called Q. The Quartermaster picked up after the first ring.

“Hello, Q,” Bond said with a hint of amusement. “How are you?”

“What do you want, 007?” Q bit. “I’m busy.”

“Yet you still picked up on the first ring,” Bond countered. He was sitting in the lounge and watching a few questionable business deals go down.

“That’s because usually when you call me you’re bleeding out in a ditch somewhere,” Q said in a flat, irritated voice.

“Is that your way of telling me that I should make more social calls?” Bond asked.

“No. It’s my way of asking you why you’re calling.” The sound of typing started up again in the background.

Bond sighed melodramatically. “All work and no play makes Q a dull boy.”

“I think you’ll recall that I have quite a bit of fun once the job is done,” Q said in a low voice that made Bond sit up a little straighter in interest. 

“Of course. How silly of me,” Bond said smoothly. “I think I’ll need something to refresh my memory when I get back.”

Q let out a low laugh. “You’ll just have to use your imagination.”

“You’re so cruel to me, Q,” Bond pseudo whined. 

“And yet,” Q said with a smirk in his voice. “Now, was there something you needed?” 

“Not particularly,” Bond said cheerfully.

“Then why did you call me, 007?” Q asked lightly.

“I was bored.”

Q sighed dramatically. “Goodbye, 007. And do try and bring all of the equipment back in one piece.” Q hung up and Bond smirked ever so slightly. 

The mission was as simple as he had thought it would be. It was almost embarrassing to be sent on such a mission. He hadn’t even been hit. The gun Q had given him was still in one piece with barely a scratch on it. 

He supposed it was a good thing, really. Not all missions are supposed to go as sideways as Istanbul. It left him still bored and he needed to head back to MI6 before he was completely ready. He had told Q and M that he was going to be a few days after the mission ended. 

Mallory had told him to get back for debrief until Q cut in that he would take the time whether it was sanctioned or not, and if they gave him permission he might just leave in his tracking devices. Mallory gave him a week of leave and told him that if he wasn’t back by 5pm the following Monday that he would send someone after him.

Bond told them goodbye with a hint of amusement in his voice and Q told him not to cause too many international incidents while he was on leave.

He spent the week with a girl he picked up at the bar. She had black hair that she kept short and looked just a little bit like Q, not that Bond had been thinking of that when he had been sleeping with her. 

The problem was that even after spending a week with low cut dresses and curves in all the right places Bond still couldn’t stop thinking about cardigans that were simply an offense to fashion and the sharp angles of the young man that was probably sitting in Q-Branch pouring over a computer.

On his last day of leave he walked through the market to kill time before he had to be back on a plane to London. There was a small stand with carved stone statues lined up on a table and Bond’s thoughts moved immediately to how it would look on Q’s desk. He bought one from the man running the stand and placed the bird in his pocket and headed back to London with a small spring in his step.

Almost twenty hours later Bond was back in London. He left Mallory’s office quickly; the mission had been really straightforward after all. Q was sitting in his office in Q-Branch when Bond came in and gave him his most charming smile. 

“Did you bring back any of your equipment this time?” Q asked.

Bond placed the black case in front of Q and sat down in one of the armchairs and made himself comfortable.

Q opened the case and inspected the gun and radio. “I’m almost impressed,” Q said. He placed the case in a drawer and looked back at Bond. “Is there something else?”

Bond pulled the small stone bird out of his pocket and placed it on Q’s desk.

Q picked it up and started inspecting it. “A hand carved black onyx bird.” Q placed the small trinket next to his computer monitor and looked back at Bond. “Moneypenny said you’d be a throw back, but gifts, Bond? That’s just plain old fashioned.”

“Sometimes the old ways are the best,” Bond countered.

Q nodded thoughtfully. “Still not good enough. Try again.”

Bond had to fight the clashing amusement and disappointment, and settled on looked at Q with a smirk. “I won’t give up on this, Quartermaster. I can be very persistent.”

“It wouldn’t be half as fun if you weren’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen)


	16. A Very Important Sticky Note

Three weeks after Bond’s mission in Pakistan, James thought he was going to lose his mind. He had tried all of the classics and yet Q still refused. Usually, Bond could buy someone a drink, wink, and they would fall into his bed. Bond couldn’t even get to the drink buying part with Q.

Two weeks previous, Bond had been sent on another mission in Russia. He tried giving Q the last-night-on-earth speech, but it fell flat in spectacular fashion.

Q had given him a flat look before arching an eyebrow and smirking. “And what would I do with a date? I’ve already slept with you. A date would further a thus far nonexistent relationship. If you die tomorrow on mission, which you won’t, wouldn’t a date have been a bad idea?”

“Won’t you always wonder?”

“Not particularly.”

Bond left Q’s office after that, with a grin plastered to his face. The minions pretended to ignore him as he left.

A few days later Bond had flowers delivered to Q’s office. He didn’t hear anything from the younger man, but he chalked that up to the fact that he was technically on mission, even if it was boring him. A week later when he walked into Q-Branch he realized it was for a completely different reason.

Bond felt like he had been sucker punched when he walked in and his eyes landed on the vase of flowers. They were sitting on the corner of R’s desk next to her computer monitor. She looked up at Bond as he continued to stare at the flowers. “007,” she greeted.

“R.”

“Did you happen to bring back any of your equipment back?” 

Bond pulled the radio out of his pocket and didn’t even try to come up with an excuse about where the gun was. 

“Do you have no respect for what we do here?” she asked with a sigh. 

“Where’s Q?” Bond asked, glancing around the room for the black mop of hair and horrid cardigan that the quartermaster was no doubt wearing.

“His office sleeping.”

Bond moved towards Q’s office, but stopped short. “Why’s he sleeping in his office?” Bond asked, concern etching itself on his face. 

“He insisted on spending the night fretting over you. That stunt you pulled worried the poor boy sick. Wanted to see you as soon as you got back.”

“Thank you, R. Did you at least like the flowers?” Bond moved to the Q-Branch break room, knowing R would follow.

She did. The two minions who had been chatting made themselves scarce after a sharp look from R. “I assumed they were from you.” She watched Bond refill and switch on the kettle. “Q’s not nearly as thoughtful as he would have me believe.” Bond pulled Q’s mug out of the dishwasher where R had probably put it after sending Q to bed. “Why exactly did you think sending Q flowers would be a good idea?” 

“I don’t know.”

R snorted a laugh. “James Bod admitting he doesn’t know something? Bill will love this.”

“I admit to not knowing only when I really don’t know.” Bond’s face was suddenly very soft and vulnerable, but only for a moment before he turned to stone again.

“What don’t you know?” she asked carefully. She didn’t want him to shut her out after silently asking to talk to her by going into the break room in the first place.

“Anything about Q.“ The water started boiling behind him and he turned around to star making Q’s tea. He had watched Q do it a million times so he knew exactly how he liked it. “I’ve tried everything I can think of and still…nothing.”

“He’s waiting for something very particular.”

“Do tell, Mrs. Tanner.”

“I can’t. That’d be cheating.” R shrugged and went back to work.

Bond sighed and made his way to Q’s office. When he opened the door he found Q laying on the large couch that was pushed up against the wall. His hair was mussed up, his glasses were sitting on the coffee table in front of him, and he was curled up under a jacket that Bond had left not-so-accidently.

“Go away, R,” Q mumbled, pulling Bond’s jacket over his head.

Bond smirked and shut the door. He sat down on the coffee table and set the mud down next to him. He reached out a hand to run his fingers through Q’s soft curls. Q grumbled and looked over the edge of the jacket. In an instant Q snapped to a sitting position, his hazel eyes wide as he looked at Bond.

“Enjoying my jacket?” Bond asked with a smirk.

“It’s warm,” Q said in a slightly defensive voice. He shivered slightly at the draft that went through the room. He pulled the jacket up over his shoulders and wrapped it around himself.

“That’s why I bought it.”

“And it looks good on me.”

“That’s why I left it.” Bond handed Q his tea and glasses. Bond stood up and went to Q’s desk, picking up one of the gadgets that was in the middle of being designed.

“Everyone says you’re waiting for something,” Bond started. He tuned to the Ipod-esque gadget over in his hands. He head Q set back down the mug and stand up. He tuned around and found Q closer than he had thought he would be. 

Q wrapped his hands around the lapels of Bond’s suit jacket and smashed their lips together. Bond responded immediately. He moved one hand up to tangle in Q’s hair while the other pressed him closer on the smaller man’s lower back. Bond moved back to lean against the desk, pulling Q with him, never breaking the kiss. 

When they broke for air they were both grinning at each other and Bond pressed his forehead to Q’s. Q reached around Bond without moving out of his arm and picked up a sticky note and a pen. He pressed the sticky note to Bond’s chest and started writing. “This is my address. Pick me up at 7. And try to be punctual for once in your life. And dress casual.” 

Bond leaned in for another kiss and caught Q’s lips for a moment before he pulled back and released the Quartermaster. “Whatever you say, Q.”

He left the office with a smile and a very important sticky note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen)


	17. It's Winter In Russia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward first dates for the win

Bond went home not long after getting Q’s address. He spent longer than he would have liked to admit sitting on his bed and staring at his closet trying to determine exactly how casual “casual” was. He didn’t know where Q was planning on taking him, and it was throwing a wrench in his process. Eventually he decided on a dark blue jumper, a pair of dark jeans, and a blue tie that he had been told brought out his eyes.

He arrived in front of Q’s door at 6:55. He knocked on the door and listened to Q’s footsteps. The door swung open and Q smiled brightly at him. “Bond, come in. I’ll only be a moment.” He moved out of the way of the door and lead him into the small flat. There was a couch facing a TV and a small kitchen to the side.

“James. Call me James, we’re going on a date after all.” Bond put his hands in his jacket pockets and watched Q walk into a room off to the side that looked to be Q’s bedroom.

“Alright, _James_. Let me get my shoes and we can go.” Q had changed into a pair of skinny jeans to go along with the same green cardigan he had been wearing at work, though his tie was gone and the first two buttons of his shirt were undone. He came back out of the bedroom with his parka and a pair of bright red sneakers on his feet. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” Bond opened the door for Q and followed him out into the hallway. Q locked the door behind them and led Bond down the stairs of the apartment building. They turned a corner and walked down the street. “You look nice,” Bond said with a smile.

Q looked over at him a little bright eyed. “Thank you. So do you, though I think we have different ideas of what casual is.”

“A date is an occasion to dress up for, especially when it’s with someone as pretty as you,” Bond grinned.

“I knew you only liked me for my looks,” Q said with a slightly hurt tone. For a moment Bond felt a terrible overwhelming panic fill him. The idea that he had just convinced Q that he didn’t care for him after weeks of trying to convince him of the very opposite thing filled him with an unmatched dread. 

Q looked over at him and smiled with a mischievous glint in his eye. Bond felt himself calm down instantly. Q was just playing with him.

“It must be that smile of yours.”

Q flushed slightly and turned back to the street. “I thought you were only good for cheesy one liners?”

“You also thought I was only good for one night stands, yet here we are.”

“Still only a first date, Mr. Bond.”

“As you so kindly pointed out before I left for Russia, a date furthers our thus far nonexistent relationship. I wouldn’t have worked this hard if I thought it would only last one night.”

“You can’t understand my concerns.”

“About the length of our date?”

“About your seriousness.”

Bond paused in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to Q. Q stopped and started curiously at the agent. “Q, before this goes any further, you have to know that my job requires a lot from me. Here, off mission I will be all yours. But in the field I can’t be anyone’s for the sake of…”

“This is our first date, let’s not talk about this,” Q interrupted.

Bond looked taken aback by Q bluntness. Q didn’t have any illusions about what Bond did and what kind of a relationship it would have to be, but he didn’t care. Not right then, anyway. He felt a smile crawl across his face that was surprisingly genuine. He turned back to the street they were walking on and continued. Q followed behind him. “What would you like to talk about?” Bond asked.

Q was silent for a moment. “How was Russia?”

“It’s winter in Russia. Cold.”

Q snorted and opened a door to a small café. There were very few people inside and only two people behind the counter. It was quiet in the room, the loudest sounds coming from a room behind the counter that looked to be the kitchen. 

“Hello there, love. The usual?” the woman behind the counter asked.

Q nodded and moved to the counter.

“And for your date?” she asked, grabbing a mug from the top of the espresso machine.

“Black coffee,” Bond said looking around the room.

She smiled brightly at him and nodded. “Anything to eat tonight? We’ve got that sun dried tomato sandwich you like so much.”

“I’ll take that, thank you, Sydney. Bond?” Q tuned to look at him.

“We also have a BLT and a sausage and peppers sandwich. Both are delicious.” She gave him another smile.

“BLT, please.”

“He’s hot and he has manners. Score.” She winked at Q who sighed and moved to a table in the back of the room. Bond followed and sat in the seat that Q had left open. It faced the rest of the room and Bond got the distinct feeling that Q had left it for him because of that.

“I have to ask you to excuse her. She’s odd, but she’s the only person I’ve found who can make my tea just how I like it,” Q said a small blush on his face. “Besides you, apparently.”

“It’s alright. Dinner and entertainment,” Bond laughed.

Q smiled brightly and Bond thought his heart might have actually skipped a few beats. “I suppose she’s a bit like the older sister I never had.”

“Only child then?” Bond asked.

“I could easily have brothers. Or a younger sister,” Q quipped with a smirk.

“You don’t,” Bond countered. He spotted Sydney coming over to them and almost missed the way Q’s smile faltered. Before he could thing about it two mugs were bing set down long with two plates.

“Now just because you’re hidden back here doesn’t mean I won’t catch you if you start making out. So mind yourselves.” Sydney looked at Bond and raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Bond looked at her slightly shocked, only enough that Q could pick it up, but Sydney couldn’t. _Apparently everyone Q knows is blunt._

“I think we can handle it. Believe it or not neither of us are sixteen,” Q stepped in.

“Don’t think I forgot about the last time. Had to replace the bloody chair.”

“Does he bring dates here often?” Bond asked before Q could respond.

“Never,” Q snapped, but he was barely heard over Sydney’s dramatic sigh.

“All the time, causes me a lot of trouble.” She gave Bond a resigned look.

“Well I’ll keep him in line this time, promise,” Bond said with a smirk.

Sydney smiled and nodded. “Easier said than done, my friend. Easier said than done.” She slipped away with a pat on Q’s shoulder. 

“Maybe you two should go out,” Q grumbled, picking up his sandwich. 

“I don’t think she can hack into every government agency in alphabetical order and then build me a gun. So I think I’ll stick with you,” Bond smirked.

“What makes you think I want you?” Q sipped his tea and leveled Bond with a bored look the picture of indifference.

“This morning seemed like a pretty good indicator.”

Q almost chocked on his tea before shooting Bond a half hearted glare. “You’re an arrogant sod.”

“You’re still smiling so what do I care?” 

Q flushed slightly and took a long drink of his tea before turning the conversation elsewhere.

The night went on with easy conversation and a few jabs at each other’s egos. When it was time to pay and leave, Sydney sent Q to talk to someone else at the front of the café. 

“I realize that this is only a first date,” she started in a light voice, “but if you hurt him,” her voice dropped lowly, “heaven nor hell will stop me from making you pay.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.” Bond smiled at her and whispered as he passed, “It seems there’ll be a line.”

Q and Bond left the café together and started walking back towards Q’s flat. They walked in comfortable silence down the streets. Bond grabbed Q’s had gently as they walked. He saw Q smile as he linked his fingers together. 

At Q’s doorstep they stopped and stood in silence for a while. Q spoke first. “I had a nice time. But you’ll have to choose next time.”

“With pleasure.” They stared at each other for a while before Bond leaned forwards and left a chaste kiss on Q’s lips. “Goodnight, Q,” he said after they broke apart. He took a step back and started towards his car, only to be stopped by Q’s voice.

“You sent me flowers.”

Bond turned around and smiled at him. “I did.”

“What made you think I would want flowers?”

“It was a long shot. They were a custom order, like my guns, from a flower shop across the street from the National Gallery. The flowers were all blue, red, and orange – the main colors of The Fighting Temeraire – and the vase had “The Inevitability of Time,” etched in the side.”

For the first time ever Q looked like he was at a complete loss for words.

Bond’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. “Goodnight, Q.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen)


	18. Ancient, Grumpy, Fire-Breathing Dragon

The morning after Bond and Q’s first date Mallory called the agent into his office. Bond was sure he was being called in to talk about his date with the Quartermaster. M needed to ensure that Q and Bond weren’t going to break up and start killing each other or worse not break up and get caught having sex in a supply closet. 

Moneypenny smiled at him as he entered the atrium that doubled as her office. “How’re you, James?” she asked brightly.

“Been worse,” he answered.

“He’s still in a meeting with the new Chairman of Intelligence and Security. He should be back soon,” she said with a smile.

Bond perched himself on the edge of her desk and grinned at her.

She gave him a suspicious look, but ignored him as he continued to stare at him. Finally she broke and turned her chair to face him. “What is it?”

“I haven’t spoken with Alec since his date with you and Mallory.”

“That’s probably because he’s in Bermuda,” she answered.

“Didn’t go well, then?” he asked. He knew that Moenypenny would probably answer whatever question he asked if he asked correctly. But he also knew that the moment Mallory walked into the office she wouldn’t say another word on the matter and just give him a mischievous grin.

“Just the opposite. It went quite well,” she smirked at him.

“Are the three of you going to see each other again?”

“Why? Are you going to warn me that if I break his fragile heart you’ll beat me up?” Her smirked morphed into a wicked grin.

Mallory walked into the atrium with a tablet in his hands. He looked between the agent and the secretary. He sighed and pressed his lips into a thin line. “Gossiping again, are we?” 

“James was just asking about our date with Alec,” she said with a smile.

“Not really any of your concern, is it, Bond?” Mallory asked almost sharply.

Bond almost smirked. “No, sir. You asked to see me.”

“Yes, my office, please.” Mallory lead Bond into the office. He sat down in one of two armchairs that sat in front of Mallory’s desk as Mallory took his seat behind his desk. “You’re being put on leave.”

“Sir?” Bond asked.

“Medical, especially the psych division, has demanded you be put on leave. I’ve managed to get it down to three months.”

“Three months? We just had a very public crisis. Is this really...” Bond cut himself short when Mallory held up his hand.

“This is the best we could do. They started by telling me that you need six months and would need to be reevaluated and cleared for action,” Mallory said in a sharp voice, making it clear that it was not up for discussion.

Bond kept himself from sighing dramatically. “Three months?”

“Three months and you may go gamble with your life in some desolate corner of the world again,” Mallory said with a slight hint of amusement. Bond didn’t want to think about what Mallory found so funny about what Bond did. His self destructive habits usually caused concern for anyone directly associated with him and Mallory was amused. 

“Happily. Is that all?” Bond asked, standing up from the chair.

“One more thing. I cannot ban you from my knowledge that the others may volunteer, however my relationship with Eve and Alec will not be discussed at work. We’re supposed to be professionals here after all.”

“Of course.” Bond left the room and stopped to speak with Moneypenny.

“I’m working, James,” she said only glancing at him for a moment.

“Why is Mallory so quick to shut down all talk about you?” Bond asked innocently. He knew why, he wasn’t stupid. He just wanted to check on his friends. Make sure that things were okay.

“He’s a private person,” she responded.

“That’s it?”

She turned and looked at him coolly. “Bond, none of us are under the illusion as to what the average person would think if they become aware of the situation. You, Q, and Tanner have very privileged information. You’re very special, now go flirt with the quartermaster.”

Bond smiled at her. “Yes, ma’am.”

Bond made his way to the tunnels of Q-Branch with a small smirk on his face. He found Q in his office with R and another minion he didn’t recognize. “Am I interrupting?” Bond asked.

“A bit,” Q said before tuning back to his minions. “Kyle, run ahead with it. Remember if you get caught, use your online name.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said before leaving the office.

Q turned to R. “And you?”

“I just need a fresh set of eyes on some plans,” she said sounding almost apologetic.

“Email them to me. I’ll look at them today,” he said, picking up his tea as she left.

“You look exhausted,” Bond said, closing the door to Q’s office.

“I should. I hardly slept last night,” Q said through a yawn.

“Thoughts of me keep you awake,” Bond teased.

“Hardly. A group of people tried to hack us last night. I had to get up and fend them off.”

“I’m sure they’re all wallowing in their crumbling lives for it,” Bond said smoothly. He was hesitant to wrap Q up in his arms and settled for kissing his forehead.

Q smiled up at him. “I don’t break laws, Bond. I’m Quartermaster now.”

“Oh, so you only break laws for me?”

“Yes, needed someone to save you.”

“Are you my night in shining armor now?”

“For some reason I get more of an ancient, grumpy, fire-breathing dragon vibe from you rather than damsel in distress.”

“Does that make you the fair prince?”

“Only if that means you’ll burn all my enemies to ash.”

“Until the brave knight slays me.”

“He’ll have to be brave to face my wrath,” Q said darkly.

“He’ll have slain the fierce dragon. Shouldn’t you be grateful?” Bond asked with a small smirk.

Q reached up and placed his hand gently on his cheek. “I liked my dragon,” Q said softly. Bond to Q’s and in his and gently kissed his knuckles.

“And the dragon likes you.”

Q smiled at him like he had a secret before pulling back taking a sip of tea, and moving to his desk. “Work to do, Bond. Was there something you needed?”

“Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?”

“Want to? Yes. Can? No. We’ll probably be chasing the fools who hacked up for the next week at least. There are ten field agents who need looking after, one of whom is looking to be the next 004.”

“They haven’t replaced Ronson yet?”

“A new 004 meant a new 007, and M wasn’t quite ready to believe you were dead.”

Bond nodded slowly. “Friday night?” Bond asked.

Q smiled and nodded. “I can probably do Friday.”

“If anything comes up, just text me. I know what it’s like here. Otherwise 7 o’clock at my flat. And dress comfortably.”

“Are you asking me to show up in sweats or lingerie?”

Bond smirked. “I am opposed to neither option.”

Q rolled his eyes. “I have work to do. Out.”

Bond leaned across Q’s desk and left a chaste kiss on the other’s lips. Q flushed slightly, which made Bond grin.

“See you later, Quartermaster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen)


	19. Q, Who Ducks His Head When He Smiles

The week passed at an agonizingly slow pace for Bond. He took the time to unpack his things from storage. He had been able to get a new flat even in the same building as before without much trouble, but he hadn’t taken the time to empty the many cardboard boxes that were stacked in the corners. He swore he didn’t have that much stuff. 

On Friday morning he sent a text to Q asking if they were still having dinner. A few hours later Bond started thinking that Q was just going to ignore him. His phone rang a few hours later, around noon.

_7 at your flat? -Q_

_Yeah._

_See you then. -Q_

After Bond finished grinning at his phone like a fool he stated cleaning his flat. He expected it to take more time than it did. Within a few hours he had the whole flat cleaned, though not clinically. A quick trip to the store and a few hours of reading while sprawled out on his couch later, Bond was cooking and waiting for Q. 

When 7 o’clock came and passed Bond resolvedly didn’t look at the clock, though he knew that it was precisely 7:13 when Q knocked on the door. Bond forced himself not to rush to the door from the kitchen. Q smiled at him brightly as he opened to the door. He was wearing a dark green cardigan, a pair of dark plaid trousers, and a cobalt blue tie, that, if Bond had to guess, was his favorite. Bond took his jacket as he looked around the room.

“What is that smell?” Q asked, following the smell to the kitchen.

“Chicken fettuccine alfredo,” Bond said with the smile on his face plain in his voice.

“It smells amazing,” Q said turning away from the sauce pan that he had been looking in. Bond started a pot of water to boil. When he turned back to Q the young man was running his finger though the chocolate frosting on a small cake Bond had bought. Q started to lift his finger to his lips, but Bond caught his writs and moved it to his own mouth. 

Q’s adma apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. “Don’t tell me it’s from a bakery across the street from the National Gallery,” Q said, his voice cracking from its usual posh tones. 

Bond released Q’s finger with a wet pop. “Just your favorite bakery,” Bond smirked.

“Pros of dating a spy: surprisingly thoughtful gifts. Cons of dating a spy: they’re snoops,” Q said, playfully narrowing his eyes.

Bond placed his hands on Q’s hips. “The question is: does the mind-blowing sex make up for the snooping?”

“Too soon to tell,” Q whispered against Bond’s lips. The agent wrapped his arms around Q’s waist and pulled his into kiss.

It started soft and sweet, but quickly turned rough, edging on desperate. Bond licked into Q’s mouth who opened his mouth widely, running his fingers into Bond’s hair. 

Bond ran his hands down Q’s back, grabbing Q’s arse and lifting him onto the counter. Q wrapped his legs around the agents waist and tried to pull him impossibly closer.

Bond moved his lips to Q’s neck, biting, licking, and sucking red marks that would fade by morning. A possibly criminal moan escaped Q’s lips. The smaller man grabbed Bond by each side of his face and smashed their lips together again.

Bond flinched back only slightly, but still causing Q to stop and look at him curiously. Bond laughed open and genuinely, his hands sliding from Q’s hair to rest on his hips. “Your glasses.”

Understanding passed over Q’s face before he took off his glasses and glared at him as if they had just insulted him. “I swear to God, I’m getting contacts,” Q said more to the glasses than to Bond.

Bond laughed all the same as he broke out of the circle of Q’s legs to add the pasta to the now boiling water. “Probably for the best.”

“The only problem is that I get headaches if I don’t wear them,” Q mumbled.

Bond went back and stood in front of Q. “I mean that it’s probably for the best that your glasses stopped us. I don’t want us to get ahead of ourselves.” Bond loosened to Q’s tie and undid the top two buttons of Q’s shirt.

“Says the man undressing me,” Q quipped.

“Just enough for you to be comfortable.” Bond’s eyes were soft, as was the smile that played at the edges of his lips.

“I would be a lot more comfortable with us both naked and in your bed,” Q countered sneaking his hands under Bond’s shirt to brush over his abs. 

Bond grabbed Q’s wrists gently and pulled them out from under his shirt, placing a kiss on each one before releasing them. “You brought this on yourself, you wanted to wait in the first place.”

“And now I’m saying not to.” He looked like a kid who had just gotten their toy taken away from them and Bond couldn’t help laughing again. “Do you subscribe to the third date theory? Forever the traditionalist.”

“Only when it means something,” Bond said running his hands up and down Q’s sides.

“If you think about it Paraguay could have been our first date,” Q said leaning down to kiss Bond’s neck. He was usually slightly shorter than Bond and was enjoying the change in height difference

“Take it one step further and call it a romantic get away,” Bond laughed. He pulled away from Q again and finished mixing the sauce and draining the pasta. Q slipped off the counter and grabbed the two plates front the small wood table Bond had set. He set them next to Bond who served them both and carried the plates back to the table with Q following. Q sat in one chair as Bond poured them each a glass of dark red wine. 

“Did you catch the hackers from Tuesday?’ Bond asked as he sat down in the chair across from Q’s.

“I suppose you could call it catching,” Q said. “This is delicious.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” Bond said with a smile. “What do you mean could call it?”

“They won’t be bothering us again. A few of the techs were able to reroute some of the electricity in their computers. Some of them were electrocuted, the rest are being brought in by 002.”

“You really weren’t lying when you said you could do more damage in your pajamas,” Bond laughed.

“I rarely have to lie about my skills. And if I do have to lie it’s to save some bastard’s ego.”

“Well I’m glad that you didn’t feel the need to pull any punches with me.”

“That would have defeated the entire purpose of the conversation.”

“I know. I’m old and out dated.”

“Lucky for you I’ve found more than one good use for you,” Q smiled suggestively.

“More than one. I feel honored.”

 

“As you should.”

They both broke into goofy smiles. Bond took a sip of his wind without breaking eye contact with Q, crinkles prominent around his eyes in the genuine smile. His thoughts fuzzed into a string that he wasn’t fully conscious of. He felt strangely secure with the quartermaster. His hair fell in front of his eyes wen he noticed Bond’s soft expression and he ducked his head. Bond felt himself forgetting about Drug-Addict-Q, leaving behind only Q-the-Quartermaster and Q-who-ducks-his-head-when-he-smiles. There were only secretive smiles and tea that had to be made precisely. Only sharp looks when he didn’t return his equipment and exasperated sighs when he did something stupid. 

“What?’ Q asked before sipping his wine.

“Hm?” Bond hummed, breaking out of his own mind. 

“You were staring.”

“You can hardly blame me.” He nodded at Q’s now empty plate. “More?”

“No, thank you.”

Bond stood up and took Q’s plate and his own. “Pick out a movie,” he said gesturing to the living room with one plate filled hand. “I have Netflix and a DVD collection. I share the account with Alec so try not to judge me too harshly off it.”

“I’ll try.” Q realized he still hadn’t stopped smiling since he walked into the flat and tried to school his features before aborting the action with the thought that he really didn’t want to stop smiling. He started with the DVD collection. He pulled one off the shelf and smiled at it.

“What’ve you got?” Bond asked as he came into the room with a plate in each hand and a slice of cake on each plate.

“The Social network?’ Q asked holding up the DVD.

“I went to the opening when I was on mission. I liked it,” Bond explained.

“Never would have pegged you for the type,” Q commented.

“And what would you have guessed?”

“Sappy Rom-Coms.” Q put the movie in and met him on the couch.

“Rom-coms?”

“You have to get the crappy one liners from somewhere.” He leaned against Bond’s side, their sides pressed together from thigh to shoulder. Once Bond had started the movie he wrapped a hand around Q’s shoulders, tucking the younger man against him. He used the hand from the arm wrapped around Q to slid into Q’s hair.

Q’s eyes fluttered shut against his will as the movie pirating warning popped up onto the screen. They popped open again when Rooney Mara started her break-up rant. “Are you petting me? Q asked Bond.

“Do you want me to stop?” Bond asked with a small smile at the sleepy state Q had taken on.

Q didn’t respond, only turned back to the movie and tired to fight his eye lids that were very dedicated to falling shut.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke up his head was cradled in Bond’s lap. One of Bond’s hands rested over his chest and the other was still buried in Q’s hair. The world was dark and fuzzy. He realized that his glasses were missing. In a panic he hsat up and reached out for his glasses. Bond stirred awake (he had been content to sleep the rest of the night with Q in his lap.) He smiled at Q, fully awake (too much training telling him to sleep lightly).

“I should go home,” Q said sitting up and stretching his arms. As he stood up he heard Bond stand as well and then felt and arm wrap around his waist.

“It’s too late for that. You should stay here for the night.” Bond kissed his neck slowly. “If you have something against sleeping in my bed there’s always the couch.”

Q’s mind had not been military trained and he was still in a sleepy fog, causing his mind to take longer considering the offer. Not that he minded all that much. Bond was a firm warmth behind him that continued to leave trailing kisses up and down his neck. “Your bed it is,” Q mumbled. He felt a grin spread across Bond’s face on his neck before the agent let go.

Q followed him across the flat and into Bond’s bedroom. There didn’t seem to be a single personal item in the room excluding the porcelain dog with the Union Jack painted on the back. There were two generic black and white photos over the bed and one wall with large windows.

Neither of them turned on the lights. Bond stopped before the bed and turned to Q. “Which side?’ he asked.

“Your flat.” Q unzipped his cardigan and folded before dropping it on the ground to be joined by his shoes, trousers and his shirt.

“I’d prefer closer to the window if you don’t mind.” 

Q nodded and closed the door. He walked to the side of the bed that Bond hadn’t crawled into and joined him. There was the slightly awkward air of two people who were unsure what to do with each other.

After a few moments Q made a resolute decision and adjusted himself so that his head rested on the edge of Bond’s shoulder. A grin spread across Bond’s face in the dark. He rolled on his side and wrapped an arm around Q’s waist. “Goodnight, Q,” he whispered. Q tucked himself under Bond’s chin and kissed Bond’s bare chest. “Goodnight, Bond.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TheExplodingPen here, updating this lovely fic for Mycroft. Be sure to leave lots of love!


	20. Thought You Had To Go To The Office

When Bond woke the next morning, he was no longer curled around Q's body, but the bed was by no means empty. The hacker had apparently retrieved his glasses from the coffee table in the living room and was intently reading something on his phone, sitting on the bed with his back to Bond and his legs hanging off the edge as if he had been about to stand up.

Grinning, Bond crawled over to Q and kissed the dimples of his lower back, chuckling softly when he felt the other man jump. He hummed as he kissed his way up Q's back, pressing his lips to each vertebrae as if he were counting to make sure they were all there. He nipped at the nape of Q's neck, and then slid his arms around the smaller man's wasit before settling completely against his back.

“Did I wake you?” Q asked. His voice was distant, his focus definitely on something other than the very naked agent flush with his back.

Bond nuzzled into the crook of Q's neck. “Even if you had, I don't think I would've minded very much. Not with this view waiting for me.”

Q snorted his laughter, setting his phone down in his lap. He turned to face Bond, who immediately stole a kiss, his mouth still curved into a smile. They lingered in each other's personal space for a moment, Q sporting a content smile very similar to Bond's.

After a moment, Q sighed. “I have to go into the office.”

Bond was quiet for a moment before he spoke, saying, “Do you want me to drive you back to your flat so your minions don't know you spent the nigh away from home?

“Bond, it's my day off. I could show up in my pants, and they wouldn't say a word.” Q smiled, and kissed Bond again, one hand going to the back of the agent's neck while the other slid up his chest to rest over his heart. 

The older man let out a playful growl, nipping at Q's bottom lip. “I'm not entirely sure I want to share you in just your pants,” he shot back, a little heat bleeding into his voice. He shifted, and Q turned to straddle his lap, his phone falling, forgotten, to the ground. 

“Two dates in and already possessive. I do believe that's a sign,” Q teased. 

Bond nipped at Q's bottom lip again, and squeezed the younger man's arse with both hands, pulling him in closer. Q gasped into his mouth, and Bond immediately took advantage of that, slotting their mouths together as he licked into Q's. The hacker's erection pressed up against Bond's chest, tearing a gasp out of him as Bond pulled him forward that much tighter.

As Bond licked and bit at Q's neck, down over his collar bones, Q arched into his mouth and held on tightly to Bond's shoulders as he rutted his hips up, searching for friction. There was a tone of desperation in their movements, but it didn't make things feel rushed – just _hot_. It balanced out into something that neither of them would have been able to define, even if they had cared to stop and try.

The agent pivoted, laying Q down on the bed suddenly. The younger man didn't even take a moment before he was reaching up for Bond, who ducked out of his grasp and resumed kissing down his chest, leaving a scattering of marks and a wet sheen behind him. He paused for a moment over Q's nipple, and then bit at the hard nub, eliciting a gasp from Q before he grinned and continued down. 

Bond stopped at the waistband of Q's pants and looked up at him, as if asking permission. Q blinked at him, and then nodded almost frantically, the action earning him a smirk from Bond as the agent pulled the pants down, freeing Q's achingly hard cock. He threw Q another glance, and he looked altogether too satisfied at whatever he saw on Q's face. Not that he could be blamed. James Bond was settled between his legs, lips swollen from kissing, and that was enough to make anyone's eyes blow wide with lust.

The blond turned back to the task at hand and licked a long stripe up Q's cock from the base to the tip. He took the head into his mouth, then, and bobbed down, his tongue flattening over the vein on the underside. Q let out a strangled moan, his hips bucking up eagerly into the warm, wet heat of Bond's mouth.

“Fuck, James,” he groaned, his fingers sliding into Bond's short hair. The older man didn't break his pace, simply swallowing around Q as the man cursed and writhed underneath him.

One of Bond's hands slid up to Q's mouth, and the hacker greedily sucked in two fingers, working his tongue over and around and between the digits, thoroughly wetting them. He was moaning steadily, now, and the sounds didn't even stop when Bond pulled back off his cock. He did make a sound of disappointment when the agent slid his fingers out of his mouth, but sighed when they were replaced with the blond's lips. 

He licked into Bond's mouth, tasting himself there on the man's tongue, and let out another moan that Bond swallowed down. He heard their bottle of lube snick open, and a moment later, one of Bond's thick fingers slid into him. The agent purposefully crooked it before adding another, giving Q the right amount of stretch and burn that he liked. 

It made him hiss, but Bond shushed him with quick little kisses to his lips. He kissed Q every time he thrust his fingers into the hacker, scissoring them just a little, just enough to stretch. He trailed his lips over Q's jaw to bit lightly at his earlobe before sucking it into his mouth, making Q let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a moan.

“Another?”

“Yes, Bond, fuck! Yes please.”

Bond couldn't help but grin at Q's eager response, and he obliged. He pushed a third finger into Q, making the younger man tip his head back, his voice breaking as he moaned. He slid his fingers out a moment later and snagged a condom out of the bedside drawer, tearing it with his teeth before rolling it on. 

Q leaned up and bit at Bond's collar bone, moaning softly as he rutted against his hip. He murmured little pleas into the man's skin, and when Bond finally lined himself up and pushed forward, he screwed his his eyes shut, panting softly into Bond's mouth. 

“Fuck, Q,” Bond hissed as he bottomed out, giving the smaller man a moment to adjust. As soon as he had, Q wrapped his legs around Bond's waist, letting out a soft whine. 

“Move.”

“Move?” Bond repeated, his voice slightly breathy.

“Yes, James, _move_ ,” Q shot right back. He pushed his hips up, searching for the friction he wanted, that Bond wasn't giving to him, but he had little to no leverage. “Move!”

Bond answered by slowly pulling out, leaving only the head of his cock buried in Q's arse. “Like this?” he asked, his voice almost innocent, before he snapped his hips forward. 

Q nodded frantically as his fingers scrabbled over Bond's shoulder, searching for purchase as the man's movements tore a moan from his lips. Bond only laughed softly and kissed the hacker's neck as he found his pace, fucking forward and grazing Q's prostate with every thrust. That was when Q began to babble, a mixture of _more, yes, fuck, please_ falling from his mouth.

Q lost time, or thought he did, because it seemed only a moment before Bond's thrusts started to become more erratic, less precise. The agent reached down and fisted Q's own hard, leaking cock and jerked him, tight and rough, making Q's breath catch in his throat and his eyes fly open before he spilled into the man's hand. A heartbeat later, Bond stilled and let his mouth fall open as his own orgasm tore through him. 

When they had both sufficiently recovered, Bond slid out of Q and removed the condom and tied it with a practiced motion. He caught the edge of the sheet and used it to clean them both off, before kissing the other man softly and smiling down at him. “Thought you had to go into the office.”

“Oh, bugger off.” Q laugh, pushing against Bond's chest half-heartedly. “Don't you dare talk to me about the office right now, 007."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge huge huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen)


	21. Lost Puppy

Three months was a lot shorter amount of time than Bond had originally thought it would be. He spent most of his time in the training rooms. Q-Branch would occasionally ask him to test one of their prototypes, but that stopped after Bond broke the prototype for a shatterproof, waterproof earpiece and was banned from Q-Branch completely.

The day that Mallory cleared him for duty Bond almost didn’t want to go. He had fallen into a comfortable routine with Q, a routine that had somehow managed to accommodate both their lives. There was an understanding between the two of them about what they were, though the conversation about it hadn’t happened. Bond was even nearing closer to the L word. But once he was back in the field and Q was back in his ear he remembered why he loved what he did. 

Nothing changed that anyone could put their finger on. They were still 007 and his Quartermaster, and they still worked seamlessly together. That didn’t stop most of Q-Branch, Moneypenny, Tanner, _and_ M from waiting for it to blow sky-high. 

The only thing that changed was that Bond returned to London immediately. He still didn’t go to MI6 until he could walk through the front doors with his usual swagger. He would go back to Q’s flat (later, his flat where Q had taken to spending most of his time). Q would try to scold him, but it was always short lived. Q found it hard to protest to anything with a Double-0 attached to his lips. The sex that followed was always needy and desperate for confirmation of life. Bond would cling to Q like he was his anchor and Q would try to sooth him with fierce, biting kisses.

Spring turned to summer and summer bled into fall and the anniversary of Silvia’s initial attack on Six inched closer and everyone grew tense. 

The Double-0s were the worst. None of them, despite their vast amount of counseling, would admit that they even cared about the woman. They would ignore their grief right up until the moment when they snapped at someone, and then the moment after in an endless cycle. Mallory sent most of them away, but Bond stayed in the country.

He couldn’t decide if he wanted to run away to a far corner of the world to continue working the way that M would’ve wanted or to stay and protect Q. He saw Silva behind every corner and in every crowd. He wasn’t familiar with that kind of fear. The kind that came from people shooting at him he could handle, and he’d take it any day over the cold fear that set in him when he saw Q talking to one of his minions and thought it was Silva. His vision tunneled and his entire body went numb, there was only a threat that needed to be neutralized. The intern had ended up pinned to the wall with Bond’s hand around his throat and Q screaming at him while he tried to pull him off. Psych tried to have him evaluated, and Mallory tried to make him do it, but Bond only ran back to his flat where Q and he spent most of their time and hid until Q came home and he apologized until Q couldn’t give him the silent treatment anymore. 

Even after that, maybe especially, Bond started spending all of his time by Q’s side. In his office, in Q-Branch, the shooting range, weapons testing, R&D, outside office meetings. It was starting to drive Q mad after a week and at two he blew up. 

“Oh my god, Bond, don’t you have anywhere else to be?” Q snapped at him.

Bond looked up from the book he stole from Moneypenny and said, “No.”

Q’s jaw clenched. “James, I have work to do. Leave,” he ground out. 

Bond looked up again. “I don’t want to.”

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t ask you, isn’t it?” Q stormed out of his office. Bond left Q’s office and he went home. The entire time he felt like here was a rock sitting in the pit of his stomach. He was angry and frustrated and most of all he was scared and he hated that. He hated being scared and he was all but terrified. 

When Q unlocked the door to the flat, he didn’t bother to turn around to greet the man. He was still angry and didn’t need to say anything stupid to Q that might piss him off too. 

It was an hour before Q spoke.

“Giving me the silent treatment, I honestly thought you were more of a ‘scream and yell’ type,” Q said in a cruel, acidic voice.

Bond bit his tongue to hold back the sharp comment.

“Seriously, James?”

“Yes, Q, seriously,” Bond bit. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Q defended. 

“Then pray tell, how did you mean it?” 

“I meant I can’t work with you underfoot all day,” Q argued. 

“I was trying to keep you safe,” Bond countered, the anger that had been sitting in his stomach like a brick, starting to boil and swirl.

“By following me around like a lost puppy so I can’t do my job?” 

Bond gave a bitter laugh. “That’s me. The sad misplaced puppy; too worried about the people he cares about for his own good.”

“Oh for the love of–“ Bond could practically see something in Q snap and that was the end of it. “We all lost something in those attacks!” Q yelled at him. 

“You lose a mother in those attacks?” Bond snapped at him.

“Oh, so now you admit that you cared about her? I thought she was just a bitch?” 

Bond made an aggravated noise in the back of his throat and stood up. “I’m just trying to keep you safe.” 

“Keep me safe from what? Another intern?”

“I fucked up. You can get over it anytime now,” Bond spit at him.

“Get over it? You think Silva’s going to come back from the dead to kill me!”

“People try to make attacks on anniversaries, Q. I don’t want you ending up like the last Q.” In the back of his mind Bond knew he had crossed a line. Q had been R until the explosion and had taken in hard. He never talked about it just like Bond never talked about M. The same kind of silence.

“And how did he end up?” Q edged on darkly.

He was already too far into that conversation to back out. There was no way out so he went for it. “Collateral damage,” Bond answered stubbornly.

Q’s face flashed a series of emotions too quick for Bond to catch before it went carefully blank. He turned on his heal and left the kitchen, grabbing his laptop bag on his way out. He called back to Bond who was still seething in the kitchen, “I can keep myself safe. At home. Without you,” and the door slammed shut.

Bond threw his glass against the wall and screamed. On the other side of the wall Q heard it and jumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. Really, I am. [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen) told me it was a lot more sad than I thought when I wrote it.) 
> 
> On another note I need some ideas as to what to do with my babies. I don't want to end the fic yet and I need some established relationship stuff. So please, comment, telling me what you want.
> 
> School started up again so posting will be a lot more sporadic for a while (probably until the fic's over) so please be patient with me.


	22. Do You Have A Backup Plan

After Bond and Q’s fight, talking would have been the most logical and the best thing to have done. That being so, it was the exact opposite of what Bond and Q did. Less than ten minutes after Q stomped out of Bond’s flat Bond left with a packed bag and went back to MI6.

On the way into the building Bond passed Tanner who looked at him strangely as Bond shouldered past roughly without a word. It was early in the evening and both Mallory and Moneypenny were still in their offices pouring over their files. After practically stomping all the way to the executive level, Bond pushed his way into Mallory’s office, ignoring Moenypenny all together. 

She shouted at him but he was already inside Mallory’s office, looming over the man who looked at Bond with a thoroughly unimpressed look. The dark look made the fire in Bond’s stomach flare. The same look of ungrateful disdain that Q had worn covered Mallory’s face. They were all ungrateful, but Bond couldn’t afford to care about why, he just needed a mission and he wouldn’t have to look at any of them until they properly appreciated him.

“I need a mission,” Bond said tightly.

Mallory regarded him for a moment, leaning back in his chair. He didn’t say a word and Bond had half a mind to go straight to Intel and pay for the flight himself if he had to if only to get out of the country that much faster. “Why?”

“I’m volunteering to go on a mission and risk my life halfway around the world, do you really care?” Bond snapped.

“What would you do if I said no? Do you have a backup plan for when you and the Quartermaster have a domestic?” Mallory said slowly. 

If Bond were a lesser man he might have clenched his fists and jaw and glared. Instead his face went terribly blank and his eyes cold and hard, not that it effected Mallory in the slightest. “Does Q have you on speed dial or did Miss Moneypenny decide that you should be privy to the private lives of her friends?”

Mallory cracked a smirk. “Neither. It doesn’t take a secret agent to figure out that you two were at least shagging. And as to your fight… Q logged in a few minutes ago after having come to my office to tell me not to even consider calling him tonight unless the world was actually ending before he left earlier. You’re both terribly predictable for a spy and a genius.”

“And I’m sure the press will also be terribly predictable if I were to send them a bit of information on the personal life of you, your assistant, and one of your agents,” Bond countered tightly.

“Don’t lash out at me because your boyfriend finally woke up and realized that you’re a ticking time bomb,” Mallory countered with his own set glare.

Bond’s eyes did narrow that time, but he didn’t say a word.

After almost a minute of silence Mallory sighed. He sat forward in his chair again and stared to dig through a pile of thin file folders before finding the one that he wanted. He handed it to Bond and the agent almost groaned. 

“We need more information on him and I think you’re just the man to get it,” Mallory said, working hard to keep the smug smile out of his voice. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Bond said his eyes having already scanned the one piece of paper in the file.

“I don’t think I am, Bond. Do be careful.” Mallory did allow himself to smirk that time. “And don’t forget to check in with Q-Branch every few hours. They’ll want all the information you can get.”

Bond bit back the juvenile response that sprung to mind and settled for a curt nod and turning on his heal and leaving the room. He ignored Moneypenny even as she tried to talk to him and went to the elevator. Going to Q-Branch would be precarious if he wanted to avoid Q, though Q would be avoiding him as well. The younger man would probably be in the gun range or testing explosives to blow off his steam. Bond remembered that he could always tell if Q had a rough day because he would come home smelling like gunpowder and tea and would curl up to Bond and bury his head in Bond’s neck. 

Bond shook his head to clear away the pesky thoughts before continuing into the branch. 

R was working at the command center and looked up to glare at him as soon as Bond entered. “I’m to be outfitted for a mission,” Bond said smoothly, extending her the file. R opened it and snorted before going back to her computer. 

She made Bond stand in front of her for two minutes as if he had been put in time out while she typed on the computer. 

When she looked at him again Bond was still waiting and had the mind to looked cowed. She produced a black lock box from seemingly nowhere and set it in front of him. She opened the box to reveal an earwig, a gun, and a radio. All standard issue. She took the gun from the box and set it next to the computer, on top of a black mat that calibrated the palm print reader before handing it off to him. 

“I’ll be the person on the other end of the coms,” she said as if the thought of talking to him disgusted her.

“Understood.” Bond nodded. 

“He knew you’d do this. You’re such a selfish arse. You don’t deserve him,” she said, finally giving up on professionalism. There were very few people in the room and no one who would say anything to anyone. 

Bond just stared back at her, anger flaring in his gut again at the thought that he was being made into the bad guy yet again. He turned on his heel without saying anything and left the country. 

He spent a week following around the world’s most boring man. Bond had broken into his home, hacked his computer, and followed him to work and then the grocery store and then back home. He was beginning to lose his mind, he was sure of it. There was nothing suspicious about the man and nothing that would make anyone consider the idea that he was dangerous. His cat was nice, though.

It had left him with a lot of time to think about the argument with Q and he was no longer angry, just repentant. He knew it was his fault. He had every right to be angry with Q, but what he had said at the end had been over the line. He still hadn’t called the other man, too afraid that he might not answer, or worse, he did and the only thing he had to say was goodbye. 

When Bond got the call from Intel that the man was not a threat, just someone with a vast curiosity and a few family members that he had never met that had gotten him put on the list, Bond couldn’t get out of the country fast enough.

He was sitting on the plane, waiting for the rest of the people to finish getting on the plane. He left his phone on, hoping that maybe Q would call him instead of the silence that had accompanied him through the whole week. 

After a lot of staring at the phone and even a resided sigh it started to vibrate, with the letter Q on it. Bond answered immediately. 

“James?” Q’s voice said. He sounded tired and maybe a little scared and Bond didn’t want him to be. 

“What’s going on? Is everyone okay?” Bond asked hurriedly.

“Everything’s fine. Everyone’s okay. I just wanted to talk to you,” Q said tentatively. 

“I’m glad.”

“That everyone’s okay, or that I wanted to talk to you?” Q said in an almost accusing voice.

“That you wanted to talk to me,” Bond said then after a pause added, “I’m sorry.”

Bond heard something happen over the line but couldn’t make out what it was. Maybe a sigh, maybe a quiet sob, or maybe a relieved breath being let go. “I’m sorry too. Your flight is set for take off soon. We can talk when you get back.”

“Meet me at the café?” The café where they had had their first date had become a sort of meeting place for them and the spot for many cups of coffee and late dinners. It would offer them a sort of neutrality and being in public would defuse anything before they could start yelling.

There was a moment of silence where Q forgot that Bond couldn’t see him before he agreed. It was one of the things Bond had learned to spot and found to be endearing. “Sure. You don’t want me to pick you up?” 

“If you do that I’ll have to go back to Six before I’m ready and I’m a little irked with Mallory at the moment.”

“For sending you on that joke of a mission?”

“Yes. I’ll call you when I land.”

“Okay. See you soon,” Q said before hanging up the line. Bond pocketed his phone and ignored the look from the flight attendant. He was going home and Q was going to be there for him the rest of the world could fuck off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen)
> 
> Just a few chapters left you guys. I'm so sad. There are a couple of fics for you guys to choose from for the next multi chapter fic. That'll come with the last chapter in a few weeks. Hope you enjoy.


	23. I Love You

For the first time in a week Bond thought that things were going to be okay. Yes, Q wanted to talk to him, but he had called just to talk to him and they had both apologized so that had to be a good sign. Things were going to be okay. Bond and Q were going to be okay.

He got off of the plane and flagged down a cab in record time, giving the cabbie the café’s address and sitting back and waiting. He called Q, but he didn’t pick up, which was to be expected. Q was probably working and there was little chance of him breaking out of his trance with only one call. Bond called again and Q answered that time. “I’ve landed,” Bond said and was pleased when he heard a little sigh from Q, as if he were releasing a breath he had been holding the while time Bond had been in the air.

“I’m on my way to the café,” Q answered, there was a shuffling of papers.

“I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

The line went dead and Bond sat back in the seat happily. He had the cabbie drop him off a block early since he wanted to stretch his legs, which were sick of sitting and Q probably wouldn’t be there for a while. He was wrong about the second part of that. 

A few seconds after the cabbie drove off and Bond started down the sidewalk someone ran into Bond. “Shit, sorry,” the person said and they were almost past Bond by the time he realized that it was Q. 

He grabbed Q’s shoulders and made him look at him. His eyes were wide and for a moment he looked terrified of Bond. “Q, it’s me. James. Your boyfriend.”

In half a second the recognition kicked in and his eyes set into a flat look that made Bond feel incrementally better. “I know it’s you. I just didn’t see you there,” Q deflected. 

“Q, are you okay?” Bond said, still refusing to let Q go. 

“I’m fine, Bond. I just need to go home,” Q said patiently, as if Bond were putting some sort of hindrance on him by checking on him.

Immediately Bond released Q and took a step back. “Did you change your mind about talking?” He said it blankly, but he still could feel his world falling again.

Q’s head snapped up to look at him. “No, of course not. I just can’t right now.” He ran his fingers through his hair and Bond realized just how badly Q looked. He had bags under his eyes and he might have stopped eating from how much thinner his face looked. He was shaking and one fist was clenched around something. 

“Then do you mind if I come home with you and make sure you have at least one proper meal in you?” Bond asked. He didn’t want to break whatever truce they had going on at the moment, but he couldn’t let Q go off on his own in such a state.

Q regarded Bond for a moment before nodding slowly, like a skittish animal. They started back to Q’s flat with Bond’s arm wrapped around Q’s shoulders, Q walking stiffly next to him.

Once inside the flat Bond started digging through Q’s fridge for something to make the Quartermaster. Q went into the bedroom and changed into a pair of sweats and one of the t-shirts Bond had left during one of his many stays. It practically drowned Q’s small frame, but Q didn’t seem to mind as he curled in on himself in the corner of the couch, one hand still clenching whatever was in his hand. 

Bond finished a cup of tea and pressed the mug into Q’s hands. He had to hope that the smell would trigger an automatic response because Q was beyond reach so Bond put a bag of biscuits on the coffee table in front of him and sat down next to the younger man. 

Q slowly started to drink the tea while Bond started to run his fingers through Q’s hair. After almost an hour of that, Q fell against Bond’s side, curling up there. Bond wanted to ask of the questions that were swirling in his mind. What could have put Q in such a state? Did Q want to be alone? Was it safe to leave Q by himself? Did it have something to do with the Q that had sat against a wall and answered that he didn’t really have a name?

The sun started to set and neither man moved and soon the only light in the room was coming from the windows of neighbors and streetlamps. Q moved against Bond’s side before he sat up and got up altogether. He picked up the mug and took it into the kitchen without a word to Bond. 

The agent watched as Q played in the sink before he turned on the faucet, turned it off, and went to Bond. He sat next to him stiffly. “I’m sure you want an explanation,” he said in a cold detached voice.

Bond’s gut twist in knots and he pressed a hand to the small of Q’s back and started drawing circles the way that he did before Q fell asleep in his arms.

The tension started to bleed out of the line in Q’s shoulders. 

“Only if you want to give one,” Bond said softly. The words had meant to come out indifferent, but instead they sounded heavy like he had just admitted that he loved Q. Not that he didn’t, he just wasn’t sure he was ready to share that yet.

“And if I did?” It must have been Bond’s mind playing tricks on him because he thought that the words that Q muttered might have been an “I love you, too.”

“Then I would tell you to only tell me what you wanted me to and that I’m perfectly content to not know,” Bond said quietly. That was definitely an “I love you.” Shit.

Q turned slowly to look at Bond and nodded after a moment of just staring at him. “I used to … I saw my dealer today. It’s been six years and I saw him and I …” Q fell silent and Bond continued to rub circles on his back. 

Silence filled the room.

“I was so bored…” Q whispered, barely above the sound of a breath.

Bond pulled Q against his chest and wrapped both arms around him. “It’s okay, Q.”

Q was silent for a moment and Bond thought that might have been the wrong thing to say. Of course it wasn’t okay. Q was obviously not okay. Bond was such and _idiot_.

“You don’t care?” Q asked. It sounded a little scared and a little confused and maybe a little angry.

“I assume you don’t still do drugs,” Bond answered.

Q tore himself out of Bond’s grasp and started shaking his head back and forth. “Of course not.”

“Then why should it effect how I see you now?”

Q just looked at the ground in response.

Silence filled the room before Bond found the nerve to ask. “How’d you get to MI6?” Bond asked. He half hoped that Q wouldn’t answer because he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to ask questions. 

There was a sound that might have been a laugh. Q’s face, which had been flashing emotion after emotion settled into a soft smile that was so full of affection and love that Bond was jealous. “One of the agents a little less than seven years ago pulled me off the street where I was living and put me up in this hotel for a week. I traced the credit card he used to Universal Exports and I knew it was an agent.”

“Is that how you got clean?”

This time it was definitely a laugh. Bitter and cold, but a laugh all the same and Bond’s heart clenched. “Not for another eight months. I always told myself I could do it any time I wanted and I would find the guy and thank him when I started working for MI6, but I just carried around the information on a piece of paper in my pocket. I got clean when I realized I had lost the paper. Checked myself into rehab and got clean, a year later I joined Six.” Q finished his monologue by falling back against the couch and looking at Bond. 

Bond wasn’t sure how he felt about the story. One part of him was disappointed that Q hadn’t gotten clean the day that Bond pulled him off the street, but another was just happy that Q was clean at all, and yet another made him want to kill the dealer who had brought it all to the surface again. And then there was a very small part of him that thought that he should tell Q what happened. Tell him that it was him, but there was no way that Q would believe him. He would probably think that Bond was making fun of him and get angry. Not the way he needed to end the night.

“Let’s go to bed,” Bond suggested.

A small smile covered Q’s face, and while it wasn’t as affectionate as the one he had used when talking about the agent it was still as lovely as it ever was.

“Let’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they cuddled all through the night and had really great morning sex.
> 
> Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen)


	24. I'm Not Babysitting

Alec was a good best friend to have. He was always there when Bond needed him, knew how to have a good time, was loyal as a secret service agent can be, overall just one of the better people in MI6. He was a bit of a psychopath, but that wasn’t always a bad thing. Bond loved his best friend, or had right up until two seconds before the words came out of his mouth.

“You _what_?”

“A few years ago I helped out an addict and…” Bond repeated, but was interrupted again.

“What in the world would possess you to do that?” Alec asked, not buying whatever Bond was trying to sell.

“I felt like it. It’s not a huge deal, now I need your help.”

“I don’t care if she had your kid, I’m not babysitting,” Alec answered before Bond could get another word out.

“He,” Bond corrected.

“Fine. I don’t care if _he_ had your kid. And I don’t care how you managed to do it: I’m not babysitting,” Alec repeated. He took a drink of his beer and leaned back on his couch. They were sitting in Alec’s flat yet again, between episodes of their newest obsession. Bond had broached the subject when he thought he could get a quick answer during the opening credits, but Alec had paused to look at Bond like he had killed a person, but worse.

“Alec…” Bond started again.

“I’m not good with kids, James. You’re my friend, but I’m not doing it.” Alec looked completely impassive, but he always looked like that to people who weren’t used to it. He was faking nervousness subtly enough that Bond might have bought it if they were quite so close.

“Alec, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near my child, but I don’t have one so that’s not really relevant,” Bond argued. 

“No kids?”

“No.”

Relief flooded Alec’s face and he smiled at Bond brightly. “Good. Kids scare me. They’re all slobbery and scream all the time.” Alec shivered before looking back at Bond. “So what do you want with me, then?”

“He doesn’t remember that I’m the one who saved him,” Bond said carefully. 

“And you want him to?” 

Bond hesitated. If he went too much farther Alec would figure out that it was Q and he doubted that Q wanted anyone to know the he had been a homeless drug addict less than a decade ago. Tanner and Mallory were probably the only ones who knew. And that was if M had put it in his file when she was alive. 

“Yes.”

“Why? What about Q? If you cheat on him I will kick your arse.”

“Why do you care?” Bond argued. 

“Because if you ruin the only good relationship you’ve had since we met, and there have been a lot, you will end up crying on my couch and that’s not conducive to me having a good time,” Alec countered.

“I would not,” Bond all but pouted. 

“And because he is very capable of killing us without anyone asking questions and I’d rather not have him do that, or for me to agree with him,” Alec continued like Bond hadn’t said anything. 

“I’m not going to cheat on Q, I just need to know how to get someone to remember something that they were high when they saw it,” Bond snapped at him. 

“Why would you think I would know anything about that?” Alec said in a haughty voice.

Bond leveled him with a flat look and Alec broke into a grin. Bond got into more trouble than the rest of the Double-0s put together, and that was saying something, since 002 had a love for underground gambling, and 008 got into bar fights on a regular basis. 

“Do I get to meet this person, perchance?” Alec asked lightly with a mischievous look in his eye. Alec was always so bothersome and loved to be in Bond’s business. Maybe he wasn’t such a good best friend to have after all. 

“No.”

“But James,” Alec pouted, having apparently abandoned the idea of actually helping Bond out of his predicament.

“No. I just need him to remember,” Bond snapped. 

“I’m not helping you win some junkie over when you have Q,” Alec snapped, his cheerful disposition gone. 

“He’s not a junkie,” Bond snapped angrily. 

Alec gave him an unimpressed look. “Oh? Petrol station manager?” Alec teased.

“You need to shut up,” Bond growled. He was suddenly very angry with Alec and if his friend continued to press him there would be blood.

“Have I insulted your fair maiden?” Alec laughed.

“Alec,” Bond snapped dangerously.

Alec paused for a moment and looked at Bond as if it were the first time he was seeing him that night. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Bond answered directly.

Alec took a deep breath before shrugging. “It depends on the person. Take them back to places that they would have been when they were using and it might trigger some memories, but there’s no cure-all for that,” Alec answered. He put his hand on Bond’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. 

When he realized exactly why Alec was still watching him he spoke. “I wouldn’t hurt Q like that, Alec.”

Alec hummed like he didn’t believe him. 

“I think I might love him,” Bond defended.

Alec broke into a wide smile. “I thought you’d never admit it.”

“Oh, shove off, will you?”

“Where would be the fun in that, my dear James?” Alec teased.

Bond just glared at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta reader [TheExplodingPen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheExplodingPen/pseuds/TheExplodingPen)


	25. Motives

Bond thought the best way to start would be a gentle reminder of places that Q had been when they were together. Proportionately they had been together the most amount of time in the car as Bond drove him to a hotel. That made deciding on his next move pretty easy. 

It was a few weeks before the forecast said it would be a sunny day and when it appeared Bond immediately started begging Q to take a day off so they could take a day trip. Q finally agreed and took the day off. 

The morning that they left, Bond stopped by the café where they had their first date and got Q a cup of tea after they slept in, though Q still woke up just as early as he usually did. Bond drove while Q sat in the passenger seat fiddling with his phone. 

Two hours later Bond parked the car near a farmer’s market and they got out. They walked together past the booths in the sun. Every time Q would look at something a bit too long Bond would buy it for him. An hour later Bond had an arm full of food and went back to the car. Bond piled things into the boot of the car before telling Q to get back into the car. A short drive later and Bond parked outside the gardens.

Q stood outside the car watching Bond in amusement while the secret agent filled one of the plastic bags with the food that they had bought. “Now, Mr. Bond. Did you plan a picnic in the gardens?” Q asked, looping his arm in Bond’s with a sly smirk.

“Only the best for my Quartermaster,” Bond replied, stealing a kiss from the younger man's lips with a smirk before leading them into the gardens. 

It was a nice day and a lot of people were in the garden, but Bond didn’t stop walking until he found a secluded spot surrounded by trees and a large spot of grass where Q laid himself down and closed his eyes as if to fall asleep.

“As pale as you are, I wouldn’t risk sleeping in the sun. You’ll burn,” Bond commented as he spread out a blanket he kept in the boot of the car and started to assemble their lunch. 

Q rolled over to look at Bond, propping himself up on his arm to get a better look. “I’m sorry we can’t all look like a worn leather shoe,” Q answered with a smirk.

“I thought you liked that look?” Bond asked with his own smirk.

“I do. When I’m buying a new pair of boots,” Q countered.

“Never would have guessed with the way you love to kiss...”

“Hey! We’re in public,” Q said even as he laughed. 

“That didn’t stop you a few weeks ago,” Bond said in a singsong voice. 

“You seem to be mistaking me for your other young boffin lover,” Q answered, even as his face flushed. 

Bond stood up from where he had been kneeling while he prepared the food and walked the few steps to Q and loomed over him. Q propped himself up on his elbows and watched Bond watch him. Bond offered his hand and Q took it, allowing himself to be pulled up into a kiss. 

When they broke Bond looked at Q carefully again. “No, my other young boffin lover is much better with their tongue.”

Q laughed and pushed against Bond’s chest. “Well the next time I meet with my other secret agent lover I’ll have to ask his opinion.”

“Alec’s no good either. He won’t be able to give you a good scale,” Bond answered as he pulled Q to the food.

“Oh, I know that. I was talking about 008,” Q answered, his face completely serious until Bond’s head snapped up to look at him with a mixture of anger and confusion. Q started practically rolling with laughter. 

Bond watched him for a moment before he pounced on the smaller man and pinned him on the ground without a second of trouble. Bond kissed Q soundly and whispered “I win,” when he pulled back.

“That’s cheating. You’re trained to tackle people,” Q pouted, as he didn’t even struggle. 

“It’s not cheating. It’s utilizing your resources,” Bond quipped. He took another kiss because he could before releasing Q. 

They had wine out of Q’s empty water bottle and bread, cheese, an assortment of cured meats, and fruit. It was a picturesque day and Bond almost felt bad for having done it with ulterior motives in mind.

Q was smiling through most of the day and even Bond found himself grinning widely at every small thing that the younger did. The day felt light and free and Bond was going to ruin it by asking about Q’s memory as soon as they got home. Bond almost didn’t want to go. 

Still, they had to go home and Q had to go to work to make sure that Q-Branch hadn’t collapsed in his absence. After they finished their lunch they packed up their food and things and went back to the car.

Bond drove them home and Q stared out the window. When they got back to Bond’s flat Q helped him carry things upstairs and put things away as if it was their flat, though it was slowly becoming so. Q’s things were scattered every where, but not in a way that was annoying, but instead much more endearing, like a reminder that Q couldn’t just not show up one night. He had an investment in Bond and that was comforting, even if it meant Q had commandeered a corner of his flat that was now full of wires and computer parts, and a half finished robot. 

“Bed?” Q asked, unbuttoning his shirt and walking into the bedroom. 

“Best idea you’ve had all day,” Bond answered, kicking off his shoes and following Q into the bedroom. Memory questions could wait until the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings. I wanted to give a quick thank you because I never imagined that so many of you would comment with your votes on the last chapter. Seriously... wow. 
> 
> Quick reminder that all of these fics will get written but in due time. Anyway, the voting continues and the summaries are here along with the current standing. 
> 
>  
> 
>  ** _Scars_ \- Tattoo Q - 7 Votes** Bond and Q aren't friends but they defiantly have benefits. It starts as almost everything does, with Bond unable to mind his own business. But before long Bond is falling for his Quartermaster with no idea if the man feels the same and the world seems intent on working against him. AKA: When has fuck buddies ever really worked?
> 
>  ** _Fuck It_ \- JAQ - 7 Votes** \- Alec's family was destroyed by MI6 and he's out for blood. With his secret agent best friend and his boyfriend the Quartermaster things are about to get a lot more interesting. Things will never be the same. Including MI6.
> 
>  _ **Survival Of The Fittest**_ \- Serial Killer Bond - 4 Votes- Everyone assumes that Bond is cursed to be alone, after all, all of his lovers leave him. In reality Bond is killing them off and the people around him are covering it up for him because he’s just too damn good at his job. When Q is promoted a bit fast he doesn’t get all the facts and no one thinks to tell him until it’s too late.
> 
>  ** _Does This Mean You're Moving On?_ \- Amnesia Bond - 0 Votes** -Bond loses his memory on mission and has to relearn the hard things the hard way.


	26. You're Clever

When Bond did get around to discreetly asking Q if he remembered anything more he came up blank. Q didn’t seem to catch what he had tried to do and said that he had had a great time, only for Bond to respond that he caught that from his great amount of appreciation showed the night before in bed. 

The next move would be a bit more fragile and would take a while to smooth out with Q because if Bond triggered a relapse instead of a memory he would never forgive himself. He would never wish that for Q, he just wanted Q to remember. 

A few weeks later after Bond returned from mission it was his turn to choose the place for a date and he picked a bar only a block away from where he had picked up Q that first night almost seven years before. 

Q met him there and was sitting in a booth in the back staring directly into his drink when Bond arrived and Bond thought that he might have monumentally fucked up. When he sat down, Q’s eyes were startled and then relaxed.

“How did you find this place?” Q asked, ignoring his drink.

“Alec suggested it,” Bond supplied with a shrug.

“How did Alec find it?”

“Same way he finds everything, I suppose,” Bond answered. He knew he must have messed up because Q was uncomfortable and hadn’t said anything about the agent who had pulled him off the street. 

Not even an hour later they left the bar and Bond spent the night trying to make it up to Q.

The next time it was Bond’s turn to pick, Bond took him the National Gallery just to make sure that Q wouldn’t think that anything was up. In front of The Fighting Temeraire Q kissed Bond soundly. “When I met you this was the last thing I thought was going to happen,” Q said with a small smile.

“What did you think would happen?”

Q’s face flushed and he looked at his feet before looking back up at Bond. “I was seventy percent positive you were going to get yourself killed in Shanghai.” 

Instead of whatever Q thought Bond was going to do Bond laughed, loud and openly, attracting the looks of a few people, but he didn’t really care. “Aren’t you glad I didn’t?” Bond said with a sly smirk.

“Less so every time you don’t bring back a piece of equipment,” Q countered, walking away so Bond had to chance after him. 

The time after that Bond took Q for a walk down the street that he found Q. He was never separate from Q which put Q more at ease, though the days after that Q seemed a little off, he reoriented himself. 

A few times Bond took him to bars ago, but their dates started becoming farther in between and Q tried to decide where to go more and more often. Bond knew that that should have been a cue for him to stop trying to retrieve Q’s memories, but he knew that Q was tougher than anyone, including himself, gave him credit for. 

It wasn’t until he walked in on Moneypenny talking to Q that he thought that he might have seriously messed something up. 

Q and Moneypenny were best friends and them talking was not something new nor was it rare. It was the way that they were speaking that had Bond concerned. He had gone into Moneypenny’s office because he had been requested by Mallory and had walked in ready to flirt with Moneypenny without meaning it. 

Instead he found her whispering quietly to a hunched over Q who was staring at his lap. Usually if they were whispering it was because they were up to no good, but Q wasn’t looking her in the eye and Bond thought he heard her say “he loves you,” and Q respond, “no,” before the change of air registered in her mind since he had opened the door slowly. 

Moneypenny spun to look at him and the first thing that Bond registered about her was that she was livid with him, though he didn’t know why. 

“Are you okay, darling?” Bond asked gently as Q stood up to leave.

Q looked at him and Bond could see him getting ready to lie right to him. “I’m fine. I have some work to do and it looks like you’re off to a mission. Come see me after you’re done here,” Q said with a small nod. 

Bond gently straightened Q’s tie and kissed the mop of hair. “I’ll be thinking about it the whole time I’m in there,” Bond answered with a gentle smile. Q smiled back and kissed Bond’s cheek before leaving the room and Moneypenny and Bond in silence. 

Bond opened his mouth to ask what was wrong with Q when she spoke first. “He’s ready for you.”

“Thank you, Miss Moneypenny,” Bond said before going into the room.

Mallory briefed him on a situation forming in Ecuador, but it wasn’t a danger and Bond wasn’t concerned. When he left the briefing Moneypenny was waiting for him. “What’s wrong with Q?” Bond asked.

“Funny. I was going to ask what was wrong with you,” her voice was bitter and cold and Bond knew he had been right when he thought it was his fault.

“What did I do?”

“You’re clever. I’m sure you can figure it out,” she snapped at him before going back to her computer and ignoring him as he left. He had to fix this. And soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, darlings. You are still amazing. I love you all so much and you've all been so absolutely kind to me. This is the second to last chapter so I can safely say that the end is near and that means the voting is closing soon. **Voting will close November 14th.** Quick reminder that all of these fics will get written but in due time. Anyway, the voting continues and the summaries are here along with the current standing. And you can vote again if you so choose. 
> 
>    
>  ** _Scars_ \- Tattoo Q - 9 Votes** Bond and Q aren't friends but they defiantly have benefits. It starts as almost everything does, with Bond unable to mind his own business. But before long Bond is falling for his Quartermaster with no idea if the man feels the same and the world seems intent on working against him. AKA: When has fuck buddies ever really worked?
> 
> **_Fuck It_ \- JAQ - 9 Votes** \- Alec's family was destroyed by MI6 and he's out for blood. With his secret agent best friend and his boyfriend the Quartermaster things are about to get a lot more interesting. Things will never be the same. Including MI6.
> 
> _**Survival Of The Fittest**_ \- Serial Killer Bond - 6 Votes- Everyone assumes that Bond is cursed to be alone, after all, all of his lovers leave him. In reality Bond is killing them off and the people around him are covering it up for him because he’s just too damn good at his job. When Q is promoted a bit fast he doesn’t get all the facts and no one thinks to tell him until it’s too late.
> 
> **_Does This Mean You're Moving On?_ \- Amnesia Bond - 0 Votes** -Bond loses his memory on mission and has to relearn the hard things the hard way.


	27. You Were A Dragon

It took Bond all of three seconds to realize what he had done. Less than that. He knew before he asked. He knew it was his fault that Q was feeling that way. He knew it was his fault that Q wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. Bond knew that he had fucked up and he needed to apologize. Q was the best damn thing that had ever happened to him and he wasn’t about to let that slip through his fingers because of his fucking hero complex.

After his meeting with Mallory he went to Q-Branch, but R was the open who greeted him and told Bond that Q was in the R&D lab and that she would give him his kit. She did and Bond was sent out of the country before he was able to even say goodbye to Q. 

His whole time on mission he was thinking up ways to make it up to Q. To apologize and tell Q that he loved him. This time he would set things right with Q.

When he got home he arranged to rent the room where Bond had left Q all those years ago. He talked Q into spending a weekend in a hotel as a way to apologize, a way to reset and forget about what happened. 

Q agreed after some persuasion, but that Friday Q told his branch not to call him unless the world was literally ending and packed a bag of clothes. He met Bond outside and they exchanged a quick kiss. Q threw his bag in the back and Bond drove them to the hotel. When they pulled up Q froze for a moment and Bond had to take a second to appreciate just how bad Q’s poker face was. His face was filled with a stark sadness, like he had hoped for anything else. 

Q followed Bond to the room, but the moment they were inside Q stopped and dropped his bag. “How long were you planning on playing me?”

Bond turned to look at Q, confusion covering his face. “I’m sorry?” 

“How long were you planning on pretending to care about me before you let me in on the fact that this is a game?

“You think I’m playing with you?” 

“How else would you know where he left me? Where I was when he picked me up? Where I used to frequent? How long have you known about my past and who picked me up?” Q’s eyes were filling with tears but he wouldn’t let them fall. He flinched away when Bond took a step towards him.

“Q, please. Let me explain.” Bond was practically begging.

“Let you explain what?” Q yelled, his voice cracking at the end.

“Why I did this…”

“I know why you did all this,” Q interrupted. “I was confused at first, but I get it. I understood when I saw you undercover this last mission. You hate me. You really truly hate me.”

“Q…” 

“You know whoever pulled me off the street and you two plotted all of this. I really have to applaud your commitment. I do. But joke’s over. It worked.”

“What worked?” Bond said slowly.

“This!” Q yelled, pulling his hand out of his pocket and throwing a small baggie at Bond. 

Bond caught it and his jaw went slack. “Q… God have you taken any?”

Q’s jaw quivered and he bit his lip. “No. But I want to and that’s what you want so congratulations.” 

“This isn’t what I wanted. I just wanted you to remember who pulled you off the street. I just wanted you to remember who did it. I would never want you to relapse. Never.”

Q barked a broken laugh. “Then what do you want from me?” 

“I just want you to remember.”

“Remember what?”

“Remember it was me!” Bond yelled. The moment the words left his mouth he knew that he had messed it again.

“You?” Q asked incredulously. 

Bond was silent for a minute. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.”

“Of course not.”

“Q, I just wanted you to remember. I know that you remember me in there somewhere, I just needed you to remember that I was the one who did it. It’s not important. We should leave. Get you somewhere that has nothing to do with your life before MI6. Let me get rid of this and then we can go. I’ll take you back to your flat,” Bond said in a rush before going to the bathroom. He dumped the pills and the bag in the toilet and flushed it. 

When he went back into the main room Q was standing where he had left him, not seeming to have moved an inch. “All this so I would remember?” Q asked.

“Q, it’s not important.”

“Obviously it is,” Q countered sharply.

“Your health and safety is not worth you remembering. It doesn’t matter that you don’t remember that I was the one who pulled you off the street and put you in a car and put you up here. It’s not worth…”

“But I do remember,” Q said in almost a whisper. He finally looked at Bond, his eyes soft, and if Bond didn’t know better he would say there was a hint of amusement there.

“You never told me that,” Bond answered slowly. He had gone through all of this, pushed Q too far and Q had known it was him. Why the fuck were they lying to each other like this?

A smile broke across Q’s face. A genuine smile, something that Bond hadn’t seen on him in weeks and Bond found himself smiling back without knowing why. “You don’t understand, James. My memory isn’t right.”

A look of confusion crossed Bond’s face for a moment and Q started laughing almost hysterically, almost doubling over as he laughed.

“I remember it.” Q laughed. “But I was out of my mind. You had the head of a dragon. A fucking dragon. And I thought the hotel was your cave where you kept all of your treasures. I thought I was your prisoner until I came down,” Q explained while he continued to laugh.

“I was a dragon?”

“Yes, Bond, you were a dragon. That’s why I didn’t know who it was. I couldn’t very well start sorting through MI6 agents looking for a dragon.” Q continued to laugh even as Bond continued to stare at him. 

“You didn’t think to mention it when I asked you who it was?” Bond asked as Q continued to laugh. Bond was stunned. In shock. That was the only reason he felt laughter bubbling up inside of him.

“You never asked who it was.” Q’s laughter tapered off and he wiped tears out of his eyes as he continued to smile at Bond. 

“I’ve been competing with a dragon,” Bond mumbled to himself.

“Competing?” Q asked with another amused look.

Bond took a second before he decided whether he was going to tell Q. “I thought you were going to think it was someone else and fall in love with them,” Bond said quietly.

Q’s smile softened and he crossed the room to wrap his arms around Bond’s neck, Bond’s arms automatically settling on his waist.

“Oh, James. You’re a moron,” Q said before placing a quick kiss on Bond’s lips. “I wouldn’t love you any more if I could remember it was you, and I’m not going to fall in love with someone else just because I thought they helped me seven years ago.” Q kissed him again, still smiling.

“You love me?” 

“That’s what you got out of that?”

“Yes.”

“Yes. I love you. I thought you knew.”

Bond stood stunned for a moment before pulling Q closer and smashing their lips together. “I love you too,” Bond answered, picking Q up and carrying him to the bed.

* * *

“007, I said right,” Q snapped over the coms. 

“Well there was a man with a gun who was pretty intent on killing me, so I thought I might try going left,” Bond replied as he ran through the halls of a convention center in Dubai. 

“In about twenty meters there are three people with guns who are intent on killing you, hence the reason that I said to go right,” Q snapped back.

“That information would have been helpful before I turned left.”

“Hence the reason I told you to go _right_ ,” Q argued. R slid over a mug of tea for him and he took it thankfully. There were a series of shots ringing in Q’s headset and he waited for Bond to tell him that everything was fine.

“Where to now, Q?” Bond said, panting slightly.

“Actually going to listen to me now?” Q shot at him.

“Of course. What kind of dragon would I be if I didn’t listen to my rider?” Bond responded, a grin in his voice. 

“007!” Q all but squawked as an intern blushed and looked at the floor ash he shuffled past. “You will be the kind that sleeps on the couch if you don’t remember that you are on speaker and these are recorded.” 

“You’re no fun,” Bond complained.

“And you’re sleeping on the couch when you get home if you don’t listen to me. Service stairs, end of the hall on your right.” 

“Then I’ll make sure to hang on every word.”

Q rolled his eyes. “Just get home safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. It's over. How can it be over? It's all a little surreal. Anyway, you guys have been absolutely amazing. The amount of love I have received for this fic has been bordering on shocking. I love each and every one of you who has read it to the end. 
> 
> Alrighty lovlies the results are in and the winner is Fuck It, the JAQ fic with 15 votes.
> 
>  ** _Scars_ \- Tattoo Q - 14 Votes** Bond and Q aren't friends but they definitely have benefits. It starts as almost everything does, with Bond unable to mind his own business. But before long Bond is falling for his Quartermaster with no idea if the man feels the same and the world seems intent on working against him. AKA: When has fuck buddies ever really worked?
> 
>  ** _Fuck It_ \- JAQ - 15 Votes** \- Alec's family was destroyed by MI6 and he's out for blood. With his secret agent best friend and his boyfriend the Quartermaster things are about to get a lot more interesting. Things will never be the same. Including MI6.
> 
>  _ **Survival Of The Fittest**_ \- Serial Killer Bond - 14 Votes- Everyone assumes that Bond is cursed to be alone, after all, all of his lovers leave him. In reality Bond is killing them off and the people around him are covering it up for him because he’s just too damn good at his job. When Q is promoted a bit fast he doesn’t get all the facts and no one thinks to tell him until it’s too late.
> 
>  ** _Does This Mean You're Moving On?_ \- Amnesia Bond - 2 Vote** -Bond loses his memory on mission and has to relearn the hard things the hard way.
> 
> Thank you guys again for reading!


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